


Each To Their Own, True To Yourself

by coplins



Series: Packrunners [29]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Donna Hanscum, Alpha Jody Mills, Bigotry & Prejudice, Coming of Age, Communication, F/M, Female Alphas, Fluff, Genderism, Kink Exploration, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Dean, Omega Sam, Pack, Pack Dynamics, Scenting, Scents & Smells, Shifters, Threesome, shifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-06-30 09:32:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15748983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coplins/pseuds/coplins
Summary: Sam's still trying to find out who he is and what he wants out of life. To his thinking, he has less than two weeks to do it. Then he'll (hopefully) be mated again and it will too late. But then he meets a couple that will change how he thinks of things. Dean also gets clued into something he's longing for. Both of them has to face a prejudice of theirs. 3 slices of life about being yourself and we start off with Sam, desperate to live out a lifetime's worth of sexual fantasies before it's all over and he's mated for real.





	1. Sexual Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> This is something of a Q and A. Most of this is a response to comments and musings. I've built this world and set up these rules and then I break them by letting people and nature do as they please. There are always outliers and even without counting them people rarely fit into the perfect stereotypes. Dean would fit rather well into a Primal/Packrunner stereotype. Sam less so. Packrunner? Yes. Primal stereotype? No. Sasha doesn't fit the prejudice against his kind simply because they were wrong, to begin with. There's a danger showing only one POV, especially when we look through someone who has been influenced to judge all from one stereotype the same way. So let me start by introducing a couple I've had in mind to introduce from the very beginning but have had to move forward in the timeline several times due to characters not acting like I originally planned. These two fit into the stereotype when it comes to one of the Alpha instincts, but don't fall into other stereotypes quite as flawlessly. You'll see. This was all written as one gigantor chapter from the beginning but since the segments, while having a common theme, are distinctively different I've divided them into three chapters.
> 
> Also, writing Minnesotan is _hard_. I apologise to any Minnesotans out there reading my feeble attempts at it. I have no idea what I'm doing.
> 
>  

Giving Sam a phone perhaps wasn’t the smartest thing, Sam thinks. He uses it quite a lot and adds any and all numbers he can get to the phone book. Like that guy Gadreel for an instance. He bets Lucifer hadn’t thought Sam would use the phone to call someone else within a day of getting it. It’s just that once he’s properly mated all other doors will be closed to him. _Forever_. Won’t they? He’s not sure but he’s got less than two weeks to live out fantasies and fool around. He can’t meet up with any Williams or he might form a bond he doesn’t want yet. So he called Gadreel. He’s also called dad. He spent an hour speaking with Adam. He wishes he’d gotten more time with Adam. He’d enjoyed being an older brother. But Adam’s presented now. He’s an Alpha. It feels really weird knowing that if he met Adam again his image of him would probably change to seeing him as the unrelated bachelor Alpha he is now instead of an unexpected bonus baby brother. Luckily that doesn’t come through in a phone call. He’s called Raphael almost daily. He’s texted Lucifer a couple of times.

He hates texting. He didn’t at first, but there’s something wrong with his phone so what he tries to write doesn’t come out as he planned. He noticed that when messaging with Dean. Dean enjoys texting. He can write an essay in minutes and knows how to use the emoticons like a second alphabet. But Dean and the phone appears to be conspiring against him.

Sam's part of the conversation (now deleted) that got him after Dean had written something insulting like the teasing big brother he can be, went like this:  
`**Sam:** Duck you!`  
`**Sam:** What the hell? I didn’t mean to write duck. I meant duck!`  
`**Sam:** duck duck duck duck`  
`**Sam:** There’s something wrong with my ducking phone!`

He’d called Dean after sending those first cursed texts and Dean had proceeded to laugh at him over the phone until he was wheezing. Whatever. After that Dean's been quacking at him and serving duck for dinner. Sam doesn't even like duck. Dean can go ‘duck’ himself.

Right now Sam’s wiping down the spotless bar in front of two utterly gorgeous Alphas. They look good too! One of them has short brown hair, sharply intelligent eyes with a playful twinkle, and a lopsided smile showing off a hint of teethed canines. The other one has long blond hair, dimples, a positive and inviting aura and a cheerful attitude. Both have warm brown eyes you could drown in. Not too long ago Sam saw them kiss, yet the teethed canines hint at them not being Progs. They’ve been shooting him down with interested looks like a, well, like a sitting duck. (Dammit, Dean!) 

Sam's bolstered by his previous positive hedonistic experiences, feeling confident and frisky. He gets off his shift in an hour and it isn't a busy night. He's already told Dean he has plans (more accurately, hopes) for the evening and won't be coming home. He decides to try to score the two hot, unknown Alphas. 

He ignores them in favour of mixing two colourful drinks, smiling and flaring while he tosses and spins bottles making a show out of it. He's getting really good at it and Aze encourages him to do it since the customers like it. As usual, it catches the attention of the bar patrons - including his chosen Alphas. He pours the two drinks, glances to see the two Alphas still looking, then rubs his neck glands and runs his oil-slick fingers around the rim of both glasses simultaneously, topping it off with straws so that they don’t have to come in contact with the secretion if they don’t want to.

“On the house,” he says and slides the drinks over with a wink. On the inside, he's all jittery. It's one thing to do this when he's drunk, or to the brother and pack member of a future mate. But sober? 

“Oh, for cute. The handsome Omega just invited us to woo him, don’tcha think?” the blond one says to the other keeping a twinkling gaze on Sam, removing the straw and licking the rim.

“Yup," the other Alpha agrees. “And here I was thinking it would be bad form to flirt with him while he's working.”

Sam leans his elbow on the bar counter trying to look cool, slick, and professional. “Why is that?" he asks with a lopsided smirk. How come he always feels like a fool when he tries to be cool?

"Honey, you wouldn't be able to tell us to fuck off and walk away when you're stuck behind the bar.”

That's never been a problem. An Alpha that kept badgering an uninterested Omega―staff or customer―got thrown out. Aze didn't tolerate harassment. (Although, he did usually hold off long enough to see if he or she could manage to turn down the badgering suitor themself.) Sam sniggers. “I'm more than capable of hurling an asshole out the door. It’s even part of the work description.”

"Primal then, huh?” the short haired one states.

“I'm sure Progs and Conservatives have no problem dismissing unwanted attention either,” Sam says, doing a slow half-drop of his fangs the flirtiest way he can.

“You betcha," the blond one agrees. “The problem is the Conservatives don't, don’tcha know?"

“You got a point. Look, I get off in an hour. If you feel like convincing me to… have some fun,” Sam says, seeing someone trying to flag him down further down the bar.

Sam has to admit that he likes the respect for his work the two Alphas show. He knows the minute the clock behind him reaches the end of his shift due to the unified deep-purr from the Alphas’ corner by the bar. Aze pours him a beer and places it between the Alphas so Sam goes to join them with a jittery feeling.

They’re great at making him feel relaxed. He’d meant to find a hookup with one or several strangers then walk away and pretend it never happened if they run into each other in the future, but sometimes you meet people and just click. He wants these two to stay in his life. They’re simply great. Sharp-witted, confident, warm and funny. And the _curves_. By the gods, the _curves_! If he could only get to touch those soft curves he’d die a happy man. 

To make it even better, they’re police officers. Sam might not have much faith in the police force as a whole, but there’s something very sexy about people wearing a uniform. Not that they’re wearing them now, but still. They’d met at the Police Academy when they were assigned as roommates and have been inseparable since then.

“I kinda feel sorry for female Alphas,” he tells them and takes a sip of his beer.

“Oh yeah? How’s that?” The dark-haired one, Jody, asks him with sceptical amusement after sharing a sort of knowing look with Donna, the blond one.

“For starters, you can't get pregnant and the only way you can get someone _else_ pregnant is by paying lots of money. Then you can't get full satisfaction since your knot is internal. On top of that you have the nurturing Alpha instinct to care for kits, but can’t have any. Must be really hard.”

“Who says we can’t have kits?” Jody challenges with a friendly tone.

“But…?”

"Like you said, Sam, we've got the Alpha instinct. But nobody says it has to be our biological kits. Do you know how many orphans there are in the city?”

"Yah. We've got four at home, don'tcha know? Finders, keepers, all of ‘em," Donna says with a big smile.

“Finders, keepers? You _found_ them?” For a moment Sam imagines them stealing little kitlings and balks, but he tries to hide his reaction.

“Sure did. We’d just been on the job for two months when we found our oldest, Alex. We were patrolling the outskirts of the slums and she was lying on the chest of her dead mother, screaming her lungs out. She couldn’t have been more than a month old. Starved, chilled to the bone and nearly scentless. Not a whiff of an Alpha on either mom or kit. So we took her in.”

“Chief rolled his eyes at us, muttering about Alphas and their kits when we brought her in,” Donna reminisces with an amused look. “But Chief’s a good gal. Helped us fill in the paperwork an’ everything.”

“And you’ve found all your kits like that?”

“One way or another. Chrissie was a young Juvie when we took her in after booking her for armed robbery, Patience was found in a cardboard box in a dumpster by a couple of colleagues. She might have been 6 months, perhaps? It’s hard to tell when they’ve been starving. But she’s the only one who had a relative come to look for her. Her grandma got wind of her estranged son, Patience's dad, dying. According to her, she had a vision about it. It took her two years to find us. By then we weren’t giving Patience up, but Missouri, her grandma, moved in not too far away and the two regularly visit each other.”

“What happened to her parents?”

“Drunk driver. It was also he who’d dumped Patience. He got sentenced to life in prison. Not a severe enough punishment, if you ask me. Our youngest, Claire, was four when we found her. She tried to pick Donna’s pockets. She’s presenting as an Alpha any day now. She’s set to join the Police Academy this autumn. Alex presented as an Alpha last year and studies to become a nurse. But both of them will live at home to save money. Sending kits to get an education isn’t cheap. Anytime I get the urge to adopt another one I remind myself that we’re mostly maxed out financially, with their educations to pay for. But at least Claire will get paid to study by the police force.”

“Huh.” Sam has so many questions he doesn’t know where to begin. “What happens with kits you find but don’t adopt?”

“They go to the orphanages around the city. But to tell you the truth, many of them would have been better off on the streets. Unless they get adopted they're pretty much screwed. The people working there mostly have the heart in the right place but there's just too many kits and not enough resources. So it's mostly just storage as bad as any jail.”

"Yah. But not as well guarded," Donna chips in, putting a hand on Sam's thigh.

What is it Dean and dad always say? 'You can't save them all.’ It makes Sam admire the effort of these two to try to save some, at least. But Alex was one month old? “Is it true that female Alphas can start lactating?”

“Oh for sure,” Donna tells him. “Took Jody's production 30 minutes to start up. Mine two days.”

“So in actuality, you think it's better to be a female Alpha?” Sam asks curiously.

“We’re not saying it’s always tater tots and rainbows, but neither is being an Omega or male Alpha, ya know?”

“As for us not being able to get full satisfaction because our knots are internal?” Jody leans closer putting her hand on Sam’s other thigh. “Honey, come home with us and I’ll show you how it’s done,” she purrs. 

“We’ll get your belly filled up with home cooked hot dish afterwards, for sure,” Donna adds.

Sam’s scent gives away how much he’s on board with that suggestion. He smiles at his lap watching the two hands resting there. “Um, yeah, sure, but. Look, it’s only casual, right? I’m gonna be mated in a few weeks so this is kinda my last chance to, uhm...”

“Sam. Is that what you want? Because you don’t strike me as the Truemate type. If you want to keep doing casual, or polite knottings you shouldn’t bend down to your mate’s wishes. It’s something you need to talk about and agree on or it won’t last.” Jody’s switched to a concerned Mom voice™.

“Yah. Jody and I wouldn’t have been a couple for 23 years if we didn’t have good communication, don’tcha know?” Donna agrees. “You shouldn’t stick to one partner for life if that isn’t your thing.”

Sam chuckles feeling flustered. “I, uh, I won’t have to. I’m a Packrunner. You’re not gonna have a problem with that, right?” He hates how insecure and worried he feels every time he comes out to someone as a Packrunner. He wishes he was more like Dean who doesn’t care if people frown upon it.

Jody does a dismissive hand gesture and Donna shakes her head. “Who needs labels anyway?” Jody says. “We’ve never cared much about designation, only how people act. Good people are good people whatever they are.”

* * *

Jody and Donna live in a large apartment not far from the University where Alex goes and hopefully, by autumn, Sam too will go. How they could afford it? Savings, heritages, and steady wages. They’d been lucky when the market crashed and prices plummeted for a year before shooting straight up again. They’d bought the apartment for practically nothing compared to its current value. Sam would have asked more about it except both of them had leaned in to attach themselves to his neck glands, hands roaming and that thoroughly distracted him.

Now he’s having revelations. Women are all kinds of wonderful! He thinks he shouldn’t be having preferences but boy does he! If he’d had to pick only one individual to spend the rest of his life with like the Conservatives do, it would be a woman. He feels guilty about thinking that. He's about to join an all-male Alpha pack. (Unless something goes terribly wrong.) There's nothing wrong with guys and none of this detracts from what he feels for Raff or Lucifer. But there's something about females that draw Sam in. Their curves, hips, breasts, softer lines. He finds them more beautiful to look at, more pleasant to touch. And it has nothing to do with Jody and Donna being Alphas. He wonders if it counts as a kink? He wonders if Dean too has preferences regarding the sex of his partners? But no. If he asks Dean if he does, he bets Dean would say 'who cares, what do they smell like?’ It's a bit funny that Dean who has the weaker sense of smell is more dependant on it when it comes to this. But to Sam, women are so much sexier by default.

“I'm getting close," Donna warns.

“Curve your fingers upward. You feel that?" Jody instructs. Sam's lying on his belly with his head between Donna's legs and two fingers inside of her, face covered in the slick from her pussy. That's another wonderful thing about females - they get wet just like any O. All three of them are leaking which makes for a dizzying cocktail of strong arousal-scent, turning Sam on further. Jody's lying on top of him grinding, shifting between sucking his neck gland and licking and sucking Donna, head beside Sam's.

"Feel what?” 

"Nothing. But keep your fingers like that and you'll see.” Jody shifts to suck on Donna's― Sam's not sure if he's supposed to call it dick or clitoris. It looks mostly like a small dick, except it has labias draped over it holding it down partially. Without the 'foreskin’ attached to the labias, it would probably stand up like any other dick. Jody massages the base while she sucks on the tip. Donna squeezes the sheets in a tight grip, arches off the bed and lets out a harangue of not-quite-profanity.

“Holy buckets! Gosh darnit! _Mother-trucker!_ ”

Sam suddenly feels it. The soft inside wall of the pussy pushes inward until there's a distinctive hard bulge under Sam's fingers. He lets out an involuntary moan and presses his face alongside Jody's, sticking out his tongue in anticipation. Just in time. Donna comes in hot spurts over Jody's face. Sam pushes Jody's head away with a greedy growl to encapsulate Donna's dickhead with his lips to capture all the come. He pulls the foreskin/labia-drape as far back as it will go and lets his tongue dance back and forth over the head at the same time as he massages the internal knot as good as he can with two fingers. Donna arches off the bed with a wordless keen, her dick pulsating in his mouth spurting out another load. It tastes and feels like normal come and Sam loves it. Then Jody (still chuckling about his takeover) starts sucking on his neck gland and Sam's a goner.

Once Sam and Donna both have gone into the relaxed post-orgasm state Jody rolls off Sam, gets her hands under him and tips him over. He makes a whining noise in protest since that takes him away from Donna and stops him from keeping his fingers pressed against her knot. But then she moves to stand on all fours with her pussy right above his face and all is well again. She spreads her knees wider to get lower so he can easily lick and suck while he fingers her, and lays down her torso to rest her head on her forearms on the bed.

“Now I'll show you the best position to stimulate a knot without fingers,” Jody declares and straddles him in a reverse cowgirl position. Sam gasps when she sinks down on his cock. “Oh, wow. You're a big boy, aren't ya," she says with a strained chuckle. Her legs are folded backwards and she puts her hands above his knees for support, then she starts riding in a circular motion. She's so friggin _tight_. Women have these muscles inside their pussies and Jody's squeezing hers so friggin hard! It's nothing like the one sphincter men have. He'll never ever admit it out loud in case someone he loves feels hurt about it but to him, a pussy feels so much better. He'd feel like a traitor just thinking that thought if he wasn't too swept up in the sensation. He's getting close to coming and friggin can't focus― he has to pull his fingers out of Donna to grab Jody's hips so he can fuck up into her hard and fast. He's turning feral the way Dean does when they have bonding sex, fangs dropping on their own accord, flare so bright it paints a golden glow in the sweat on Jody's gorgeous backside when he angles his head to look at her. He's comprised of greed and ecstasy. He's not sure if he's growling or purring his possessive hungry pleasure but he hears Jody's keen loud and clear.

_YES YES YES_

He comes hard, jackknifing up just to get a mouthful of Donna.

_YES YES YES_

He feels Jody's knot begin to swell, making her even tighter. But she's so wet he still glides easily in and out. He uses his lips to push back the foreskin on Donna's little dick and has to concentrate for a second to teeth the two teeth closest to its sides to help expose the dickhead and sort of lock it in place, then he goes to town sucking, playing with his tongue back and forth on it.

“Ouff da! That's good! _That's so good!_ " Donna mewls. He feels the wetness from her pussy run down his chin and he wants _more more more!_

He was too focused on Donna thus missed Jody coming, but then she bends backwards, laying down with her back against his chest, head almost beside his, exposing her whole wonderful front to him. Like she said, this position makes his cock press against her knot. Her hand comes up to slip between his chin and Donna's pussy as she pushes in two fingers to press against Donna's knot.

It's possible her intention is to let all three of them calm down to enjoy the still moment between the orgasms in a knotting. Sam doesn't give a shit. He's the embodiment of self-indulgent greed and want now. He needs it all. This is his purpose in life.

Donna's pressing down on him rhythmically and his hands are free to roam. He holds Jody across the chest cupping one of her breasts teasing a hardened nipple with a finger. His other hand slides down between her legs one finger on either side of her little dick squeezing it in a scissor grip, then he starts rubbing up and down, jerking her off and fucking up inside of her in the same rhythm that Donna’s fucking his face.

Jody keens and arches upward him following not letting her get away. He’s relentless. Hungry. Possessive. Above him, Donna shouts PG rated curses―“ _Duck! Duck! Duck!_ ”―and comes again, spasming, filling his mouth with ambrosia. Jody makes one long howling sound and begins to spasm around his cock, squeezing it rhythmically. This time he feels warm wetness when she comes, spurting down over his balls. The sheets are wet under him and a lot of it is caused by his own freely flowing slick. He couldn’t care less.

**YES! YES! YES!**

He’s found God. The One. The God the Conservatives always go on about. He’s right here in this bedroom and this is the Heaven promised. This is the peak. He’s ready to die now. The end.

Sam comes again and he might have roared this time. Honestly, he’s not really aware. Somewhere there’s a Trickster god―perhaps Loki, the Norse one―laughing his ass off at managing to interject ‘duck’ into Sam’s perfect moment but Sam’s too blissed out and filled with joy to care.

It takes him a while to come back to himself. By then both Donna and Jody are lying on his chest, kissing each other lovingly. The whole room smells of contentment, happiness, and sex. In other words - still in Heaven. His cheeks hurt from smiling. His jaws and skull should be hurting due to the fang drop but he feels no pain whatsoever. He closes his eyes.

The door opens. “Mom, have you seen my― oh.”

For a fraction of a second he’s jarred and confused. _Cas?_ But no, it’s not Cas he’s smelling but a close relative. He opens his eyes to see a beautiful blonde with blue eyes that remind of Castiel’s, scenting curiously in his direction. Then, to make matters worse, further confusion is added to his unhinged brain because while the Alpha marker in her scent is very distinct, and he smells her budding arousal, there’s also a _very_ faint trace of Juvie marker. “Hi,” she says and gives him an almost shy smile, bending her neck to stroke a lock of hair behind her ear and look at him from under long lashes.

“Hi,” Sam answers and bites his lip. She smells so much like Cas, but with some distinct differences. Not like Luci and Raff are different, or he and Dean. No, more different than that. It’s a punch in the gut, or heart, rather. He misses Cas. Longs for him as his Patriarch and friend. If they’d meet today Sam would most likely see him differently. Most likely, he’d take one whiff and think ‘hot damn’. Not on the level Dean did, because when they met Dean was like ‘Hello, I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you’ from the start, while Sam was ‘Hello, I like you.’ Figuratively. They’d all been unpresented and it’s not the same. But here stands this amazing young aroused Alpha smelling so much like Cas and Sam… Sam’s feeling all kinds of confusing things. “Do you want to, uhm…”

She blinks in confusion then scrunches up her face. “Ew. No.”

“Oh, gods. I’m so sorry. I thought you were―” Sam can’t even finish the sentence. He feels his face heat up and closes his eyes, so horrified and mortified about having propositioned a Juvie it can be smelt in his scent.

“No! It’s. It’s okay. I just…” She trails off, her own scent becoming a jumble.

“Claire, meet Sam. Sam, this is Claire,” Jody says amusedly. “And I guess that means you haven’t presented yet,” she states. Donna giggles and Claire mutters something under her breath.

Here’s the thing. Juvies and Kits have no qualms about barging in when their parents or pack members having sex. It means nothing to them. It’s that bonding thing grownups do. Sam can recollect several times he himself has walked in on stuff like this. One time as a kit he’d walked in on dad when he was knotted in Bobby. He climbed up on dad’s back to ask if they could go fishing. Dad’s gone as red as Sam is now, shoulders shaking with pained laughter. Bobby had told him yes and asked him to leave the room until dad’s knot as died down. Sam’s simply said ‘okay’ and climbed back down. Not until after he’d presented had he understood that dad had been laughing because he’d been dying of mortification and the mental misfiring kit-scent in the mix caused. As a Juvie he’d walked in on Cas and Dean several times, asking Dean this or that, wanting to play cards or whatever. There’s nothing wrong with that except mild curiosity in a Juvie’s mind. Nor in Dean’s, who’d get to a comfortable position in Cas’ lap and play cards with Sam. Juvies and Kits don’t get aroused by sexual behaviour. 

But.

There’s a short transition period when different parts reach sexual maturity unevenly. Sometimes it could be hours, like for Dean, or weeks, as it was for Sam. It’s the most confusing time in Sam’s life. The Juvie marker can cling faintly for days after presentation, and during the transition, the gender marker is so much stronger than the maturity marker in the scent, plus the Juvie gives off double signals like Claire’s doing right now. Sam remembers these weeks clearly. He’d spent many hours standing with his nose pressed against Brady’s neck gland and Brady against his. Just breathing in the scent trying to make sense of what he was feeling. Because he got turned on by it and Brady could smell it. But when Brady made any kind of move to touch him he’d get the repulsion Claire just displayed. Brady had courted him anyway, but platonically, taking him on dates, buying him milkshakes, watching a drive-in movie. And scented him. Hours of hours of scenting trying to figure out if the coast was clear. Then one day suddenly, Sam got the urge to stick his tongue out to taste Brady like he’d never done before and, _Bam!_ They’d been knotted within an hour. He’d presented.

It’s still mortifying being on the wrong side of a propositioning like this.

* * *

The next morning Sam frees himself from his heaven and goes to the bathroom. When he comes out after having relieved himself he bumps right into Claire. “Sorry,” he says and takes a flustered step backwards.

“It’s okay,” Claire assures him with a shy smile.

They remain standing, looking at each other, Claire trying to be discreet about scenting him yet he can see her nostrils flaring. Again, there’s a faint scent of arousal coming from the pretty Alpha-to-be. “Look. Claire. This is getting awkward.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just… I don’t know.” She blushes and frowns in frustration looking down at her feet.

“I know. It wasn’t that long ago I was in your position. It’s confusing as hell. I feel like a perv for inviting you yesterday. But if you want to smell…” He pats his neck to demonstrate, puts his hands behind his back and leans against the hallway wall, spreading his legs wide to sink down so she can easily reach. He tilts his neck to expose it to her. “I won’t touch you unless you do anything first. Take all the time you need. I don’t start my shift until 6 PM.”

She giggles and looks at him with dry amusement. “That’s a long time to stand still.”

“Try me,” he smirks. When she steps in close to put her nose against his neck to scent he does his best to not react to her scent. He wonders if he should tell Dean about her. Or if it would just hurt Dean further to meet someone who smells so much like Cas. He’s going to keep Jody and Donna’s phone numbers, though. He wants them in his life. As friends, if nothing else.

When he leaves the apartment he takes the two wise women’s advice to heart. He calls Raphael. Communication is the base of a lifelong partnership, they’d said. He’s discovered that he loves having sex with girls, but emotionally his heart is still with the Williamses. Raphael isn’t disturbed in the least by Sam’s sexual adventures. Bolstered by that, he texts Lucifer.

`**Sam:** I like having sex with women more than men.`

`**Lucifer:** I like having sex with you more than anyone else. Excluding that? Do I have to pick favourites? I prefer Omegas. Men and women alike. Is there a possible threesome hinted at in this message? Do I dare to hope? Or will you think me a jerk for considering the very idea? If that’s so, I have a confession to make. I’m not alone right now. You know I’m out of town. I don’t take being separated from my pack very well. I’ve acquired… companions.`

`**Sam:** I just spent the night with a couple. Two female Alphas. I’ve never been with a woman before. It was ducking amazing. But I still miss you.`

`**Lucifer:** Quack, quack. ;D `

Sam hates texting.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love them, okay?


	2. The Animal Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean isn't feeling well but Sasha comes to the rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter helps keep the Dick-related angst down as well as speed up some developments. :) Also, I've mentioned it before, but in this verse John is a good dad. <3

* * *

Dean’s sitting on the stone stairs leading up to the office. It’s quarter past six and he’s finally got off from work for the day. Sam had texted him earlier to say he wasn’t going to come home tonight and Dean’s too wrung out to move. For once it isn’t Bartholomew’s fault. No, Dean’s running a fever and his nose is all clogged up. His head is pounding, his joints ache and his brain feels like cotton. What's the point of going all the way home when Sam isn't going to be there?

“Pretty little Omega is not well."

Dean turns his head to look at Sasha coming down the office stairs. “No shit," Dean agrees. “I have the headache from hell and I can barely smell a thing."

Sasha stops by his side, squats and reaches out to feel his hot forehead. “Come. I drive you home."

“Sam's not coming home tonight so what's the point?”

Sasha shrugs one shoulder. "Fair enough. You come to my place. I make dinner and we sleep together.”

Despite how miserable Dean feels he perks up enough to smirk and wiggle his eyebrows at Sasha.

Sasha chuckles. “No. _Sleep_. As in dream sweet dreams of stalking reindeer on vast, snowy plains.”

"Yeah, yeah. Be a party pooper,” Dean complains, sniffles, sneezes, and sniffles again. He dries his nose with the back of his suit sleeve and withholds a whimper.

“You come, yeah?"

“Yeah. Let me just sit here and rest for a bit.”

"No. You rest in car." Sasha doesn’t give Dean a chance to answer before he gets one arm under Dean’s thighs and one around his back and lifts. Dean whoops when Sasha easily manhandles him, rearranging him so he can help hold himself up chest pressed against Sasha’s chest, arms around his neck and legs around his middle. Just when he’s in position Sasha shifts him again holding him against his hip one strong arm under his ass like you’d carry a sleepy toddler when you need one arm free. Dean giggles tiredly but lets himself be carried, tucking his head in against Sasha’s shoulder and helps holding himself up as best he can. Sasha is a large, strong man. It’s never been more obvious than now. Overall he doesn’t _appear_ as big as he his due to his laid back personality. But now he lifts his upper lip to show his fangs in silent, passive threat to anyone getting too close to them on the street. The car is parked not too far away and Dean’s bundled into the passenger seat, seatbelt buckled for him. It makes him think of dad. When he was barely a Juvie he’d broken his leg when he was out playing. Dad had scooped him up to carry him home and he’d struggled against it, insisting he was strong enough to walk himself. ‘ _Son, there’s pride and there’s foolish pride. Just because you_ can _do something doesn’t mean you should.That’s what pack is about. It’s not only about helping your pack, but to allow them to help you. The one who can’t accept help will be the weak link in the chain._ ’ Dean had let himself be carried after that.

During the car ride Dean falls into that semi-conscious state between sleep and wakefulness. He’s more asleep than awake when Sasha parks and helps him out of the car then carries him to the apartment and gently sets him down on the bed. Dean’s giggling (and sneezing) when Sasha helps him out of his suit and can’t help making a couple of drowsy innuendos, then he’s dressed in soft sweatpants and an equally soft T-shirt that both are too large, and tucked in under the blanket. Sasha gives him a pill for the headache and fever, and some weird tasting drink to swallow it down with. After that Dean falls asleep. When Sasha wakes him up later to tell him dinner’s ready Dean feels a lot better. The headache is gone and the fever isn’t as high. He’s still fuzzy and has a reduced sense of smell. But he feels fairly good overall (putting the bar low). Good enough to make conversation over dinner. Good enough to repeatedly zone out thinking about Dick. 

“Ey. What's bothering you?" Sasha asks nudging his foot with his own, startling him.

"Huh? Oh. It's nothing."

Sasha frowns in concern. "It's something. I can tell."

“Nah. Same old. Thinking about Dick. And not the fun kind."

Sasha's lips twitch in amusement. "I don't know. He seems fun to me," he jokes.

Dean huffs and smiles at his lap. "Yeah… you're probably tired of hearing about him by now, huh?”

"No. Until problem solved, problem should be talked about. I listen.”

Dean gives him a grateful look. “Alright. Ever since I unlocked his scent and bonded with him I have this urge to open a window and call for him. Like, I _need_ him to come home. I haven't seen or heard from him since I left his apartment. I've been meaning to visit him at work but I've had no time. But, like, he didn't sign up for having a needy Main hounding him. We had a deal and the bonding changed the game for me. It would be both arrogant and presumptuous to think it's the same for him since he isn't a Packrunner or even a Primal.”

"Who says?”

"Dude. He's monogamously mated.”

"He says with mouth, yet he siphon you and bond with you."

“Yeah, but. That was a deal. A scam."

Sasha shakes his head. “No. Listen. Progs don't siphon. They make pair like, _muh_ ,” he shrugs in a manner of someone giving zero fucks. 

“Yeah, but Dick’s no Prog,” Dean cuts in, not understanding.

“No. _Listen_ ,” Sasha says with a little frown and briefly puts his hand over Dean’s. “Progs don’t siphon. Their bodies change. They go different from us. Conservatives siphon. But Conservative only siphon one. Only make pair with one. They get very strong bond to that mate or friend. Even lenient Conservatives only siphon one even if they sleep with others, yeah?”

Dean frowns in befuddlement but nods.

“Primals siphon. They like someone, they try them out.”

“Yeah, but it’s different with Dick since he was born scentl― Right. Sorry. Go on.” Dean falls silent seeing Sasha’s patient expression.

“So. Packrunners siphon when bonding strong bond. We follow the heart. To us mind is to help heart get what it wants. Conservatives and Progs try to let mind tell the heart what it wants, not the other way around.”

“By heart you mean instinct, right?”

Sasha pulls down the corner of his lips in a facial shrug. “In part. Heart and instinct go hand in hand often. Not always. Often. But, you can siphon one time, five times, ten times and no bond form if heart is not won. Heart dictates, you get what I’m saying?”

Dean huffs in amusement. “Not even a little bit,” he admits.

Sasha runs his hand through his hair in frustration and mutters a harangue in his own language. Normally his somewhat limited language skill isn’t a problem but it seems now he can’t find the right words for what he wants to express. “Okay. Okay. You say you want to call him home. Why?” he asks after a bit of thinking, trying another approach.

“Because it feels like he’s part of my pack.”

“In your heart,” Sasha states as a question.

“Yes.”

“And you don’t call to him because?”

“I didn’t ask him if he wanted to be.”

Sasha sighs like Dean’s missing a point. “And you think he has no heart?”

“Of course he does.”

“Dean. He is Primal. He siphons many. Perhaps because he needed to be Primal to survive, perhaps because his heart always was. But he’s Primal and his mouth says lie. He’s not monogamously mated or you two would never make bonding sex in the first place, you get what I’m saying? Heart also said pair is good or you wouldn’t have bond. You think he does not hear the call of the bond in his heart? Of course he does. Now you need to show him you don’t feel it was mistake, yeah? Rally him.”

“ _Rally_ him?”

Sasha clicks his tongue in annoyance. “You have other words than we do for same thing. I don’t know correct one. Chase him. Herd him like sheepdog. Fell him like wolf fell deer, but nicely? Woo him like mate and friend. Recruit. I don’t know your word.”

“You mean ‘snipe’ him? Like when you steal a pack member another pack?”

“Snipe? Perhaps. I think that is the right word. Normally, when rallying someone the problem is making the bond. The bond is there already. Now you just need to make him feel that you need him. This isn't the plains. No need to force him. Tell him how you feel and what you want. He might think you don't want him in pack. Treat him like Sam. Say how you feel but leave space to let him come to you. You got phone. Call him.”

"Call him?"

“Call him."

Dean hesitates. Sasha keeps nailing him with a patient look. Finally Dean breaks and looks around for his phone. Sasha has put it on charging on the kitchen counter while he slept so he goes to fetch it. He's never called Dick on his private phone number before, only the office number. Hell, he isn't even sure Dick has his number. He throws a look over his shoulder at Sasha and gets an encouraging nod. He calls and presses the phone nervously to his ear.

Dick answers. “What did you do this time, dear?" he says tiredly in lieu of hello.

Dean's startled out of his tracks. “Wha... I didn't― I, it's Dean?”

"Oh! Pardon me, dear. I mistook you for someone else.” Dick sounds happy to hear from him.

“Gabe? You thought I was Gabe? You know him?"

“Indeed, I do. How come you have his phone?”

“He gave it to me. Met him at the DMV and spent part of my Heat with him. He's a Packrunner and when he comes back from overseas we're having a pack date. Gotta tell you, I'm fucking nervous about it. I really liked him but what if I hate his scent or can't stand his brothers?”

"His sce― oh. You met him at the DMV. Of course.” Dick chuckles. "Are you considering a mateship with him?"

“I am, yeah. Why? Is there anything wrong with him? You don't think I should?”

Dick laughs. ”If there's anything wrong with him? Debatable. But he has a heart of gold, zero sense and energy enough for ten to make up for it. I love him dearly. I'd say he'd make an excellent mate.”

"Yeah? That's good. I think Sam accidentally got mated to his brother. But Sam managed to reverse the bond before it set.”

“Mh. Say, Dean, are you alright? You sound unwell.”

Understatement. Dean's voice is raspy and clogged up. “I'm fine," he says and promptly sneezes. He huffs an embarrassed laugh. ”Just a small cold that's all.” Sasha clears the table while Dean talks. Now his lips twitch in amusement showing he's listening in.

"Is that why you called? Do you need to know the rules of your new contract? It differs from your old one. Now you only have the first day home without pay, then you have 75% sick pay for two weeks. After that, it goes down to 50% and you need to show a doctor's note. If you're sick for six weeks you lose payment but you won't lose your job unless you're gone for more than twelve weeks.”

"Woah woah. You're telling me I get paid to be at home sick?”

"Yes.”

" _Why?_ That doesn’t make sense. Why the hell would they pay someone who’s contributing jack shit? Not that I’m not grateful, but that’s messed up.”

Dick chuckles pleasantly. “A fair bit better than your contract as a janitor, wouldn’t you say?”

“No shit.”

“You’ll find that the higher you climb, the better your deal is. A janitor that can’t work can easily be replaced by going outside the building yelling that there’s a job opening. The law says nobody can be fired for being sick less than two weeks in a six month period. We've raised that to three weeks taking the flu into account. But once you hold a job that requires that you’ve gone to school or college, you’re no longer easily replaced so you’re given better conditions. In addition to that we most often recruit from within the company and teach good employees what they need to know. Not basic reading and math, mind you. But many start with more menial jobs and work their way up. Then it makes sense to have better conditions. Otherwise we risk teaching people just to lose them to the competition. Oh, and the next time you get promoted and need to sign a new contract, read it carefully and when you find the finely printed no-compete clause, laugh and tell them, me, or whoever you’re dealing with, that you won’t be signing unless it’s struck. And if it isn’t, turn the job down and inform them you’ll be looking for a job with another employer. By the time you reach your next promotion you’ll be hot commodity for companies such as ours.”

“What’s a non-compete clause?”

“An agreement not to enter into or start a similar profession or trade in competition against your employer. Usually for two to ten years. All big companies have these clauses from a certain level and up, but most can be persuaded to strike it especially if they’ve invested time and money to train you.”

“So basically, I wouldn’t be allowed to do the job I’ve trained for?”

“Indeed. And that holds true even if you’re fired unless you’re fired because the company’s sold or bankrupt. As a bonus when you refuse to sign a contract with such a clause, the company usually sweetens the deal if they want you, to make sure you stay with them.”

Dean’s pretty damned stunned at the gall of companies. It’s one thing to let them ‘own’ you when you work for them. But afterwards? Hell no! “Do I currently have such a clause?”

“No.”

“Do you always inform employees of this?”

This time when Dick laughs it’s something darkly amused. “Certainly not. But I look out for my friends.”

“Fuck. Thanks, man.”

In the background someone speaks to Dick. ‘ _Who is it, love?_ ’ Dick’s voice gets muffled as if he’s covering the mic. “Dean.” ‘ _Your Main?_ ’ the voice asks. There’s a pause that makes Dean think he missed the answer, but then, “I suppose.” Dean’s heart takes an excited leap and he completely misses the next thing the voice says. Then Dick’s back. “My mate sends his regards.”

“Thanks, hey, look. I didn’t call to ask about sick days.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I, uh. I know you didn’t sign up for the kind of bond we ended up having. Hell, I wasn’t prepared for the effect it would have on me, but. I fucking miss you, man. I’ve been thinking of you, wondering how you’re doing and if you’re alright. I just, ho boy, this sounds needy, but I needed to hear your voice.” In the background, Sasha starts purring a calming all-is-well of approval.

“That’s very sweet of you, dear. Are you very bothered by the bond? Do you want to do a soft fade?”

“What? Oh. Yeah, no. I don’t want that at all, but if that’s what you need from me… Do you want to get rid of it?”

“In all honesty? Not particularly, no. But I know a pack bond comes with obligations―”

“Hey, hey, no. Stop. I ain’t gonna force you to be a Packrunner, you hear? Ain’t no obligations. We’re friends first and foremost, you feel me? I just wanted to say…” Dean can't put words on it. Instead he expresses the relief of talking to Dick the way that feels the most natural to him. He purrs. A breastbone purr that allows him to talk without breaking off his purr. Dick emits a delighted chirp and falls silent. It's strange to purr comfortingly to someone you can't see. But Dick's chirp relaxes him. After a couple of minutes he speaks up without letting up his purr. “So how have you been?"

“It's been… tumultuous. People are treating me different now. I never thought I'd get annoyed at Alphas deep-purring me. But there are so many unworthy ones.”

Dean chuckles. "Tell me about it. But hey! Can't blame a guy for trying. It's those who keep it up after a definite no that are the real bother. But then flaring, teething and growling will get the message through. You rarely have to drop fangs and threaten murder. And often if there are other people about they'll interfere if they hear a definite no being ignored. And I'm not a fan of the Conservative notion that Omegas are weaker, but I gotta give them some credit anyway cuz Conservative Alphas are great at telling other Alphas off.”

"You know, I hadn't experienced Conservative discrimination full force until I got my scent.”

"Oh yeah? Whose ass do I need to kick?”

Dick makes a happy little _mrrt_. “Nobody, dear heart. I told you we usually recruit from inside the company. But sometimes we need to hire new people. This Monday I had to interview people for a job dealing with new technology that very few know anything about. Lucifer was with me in his brother's stead. He barely said a word, introduced himself as a company lawyer, nothing else. Then he kept himself in the background, mostly sitting looking bored while taking notes. But one guy directed all his answers to Lucifer, and pushed every paper he'd brought over the table to Luci instead of me despite Lucifer passing them on to me without looking. Quite frankly, I've never experienced such blatant genderism in my life. And the imbecile didn't even react when he could smell my anger.”

"Holy fuck! Hope you told him to go fuck himself.”

Dick heaves a sigh. “Unfortunately, no. We’re still reviewing who to hire but there are only three other companies licensed to use this new tech and not enough people who know how it functions. Skill-wise it seems he’s the best out there since the inventor went and died. I might not be happy about it, but we don’t want our competition to get him.”

“So dispose of him,” Dean suggests. Behind him Sasha barks a short laugh then his purr goes up in intensity. Great minds think alike and all that.

“I like the way you think, but this slight isn’t quite at the level where it merits measures that extreme,” Dick tells him with a smile carrying over in his voice.

“Fine. You’re probably right. Sorry, I get a bit protective when someone hurts my pa― someone I’m bonded to.” Understatement. Dean bites his lip hoping Dick hadn't noticed his slip of the tongue. 

Dick hums and thoughtfully remains quiet for a bit before changing the subject. “Say, Dean, do you like your own scent?”

“I guess? Never thought much about it. You don’t like yours?”

“On the contrary, I…” they keep talking, flitting from subject to subject until Dean’s already abused throat goes too raw and rough to go on. They don’t bring up Dick’s pack bond again but they do talk about Dick’s scent. Apparently having one is causing him both distress, agitation, and wonder. Dean could never have imagined having a scent could have drawbacks. Maybe that's what Sam's misgivings were about? His initial reaction is to wave it off but dad's voice in his head stops him. ' _Son, when someone in the pack opens up to tell you what they feel you don't tell them what they feel is wrong. You listen to them and support them through their problem._ ’ At the time it was about Sam's ridiculous fear of scaling down a rock wall. Sam was a Juvenile grown for fuck sake. It wasn't even that steep and only 20 feet. Sam had reacted like Dean had asked him to nosedive from Grand Canyon. Dean wanted to tease Sam for being a chicken shit but after dad took him aside he instead worked all summer to teach Sam how to climb safely with ropes. All while scaling that cliff wall up and down like a baboon, using only his claws on hands and feet to show how safe it was. (Weirdly, that only seemed to stress Sam out. Bottom line is that by the end of the summer Sam was no longer crying like a whimpy little kit about steep climbs.)

So Dean listens and tries to grasp the problem. Despite knowing Dick isn't perfectly fine he feels less stressed after having spoken to Dick. But by then his fever is rising again and Sasha bullies him into bed. His fever keeps rising causing him to freeze even under the thick duvet. Somehow he manages to fall asleep despite freezing while Sasha sits by one of his computers doing paperwork for his company Heimdallr Security, purring a deep all-is-well and muttering foreign curses under his breath.

When Dean wakes up in the middle of the night he’s no longer freezing. His stuffed nose still manages to pick up that he’s surrounded by Sasha’s scent. There’s something different about it - less sun-warmed pine needles and more like the scent of reindeer pelts mixed into his human scent. It’s still recognizable as Sasha so Dean doesn’t reflect on it, thinking it’s to do with his stuffed nose. Sasha’s spooning him, sleep-purring a content all-is-well. He can’t remember when he last felt so safe. There’s something soft and warm and fluffy between them and Sasha’s arm rests on his midriff. Dean opens his eyes, blinks blearily in the dusky half-light and tries to make sense of what he sees. His heart starts pounding faster and he twists his upper torso and head enough to be able to see Sasha’s face. The scent and breastbone-voice tells him it’s Sasha or he might have fucking squealed in fright. As it is, his own scent gives away his surprised distress. Sasha’s nostrils flare in his sleep scenting and a small frown creases his forehead. Dean turns back into his original position trying to calm down. 

_It’s Sasha. It’s fucking Sash. No need to freak out just because I’m seeing why his kind was hunted down and killed like animals. I was cold, he fixed it. Calm the fuck down, Winchester!_

He lifts his arm to run his hand along the dense, thick fur on Sasha’s arm all the way down to the pawlike hand. Sasha’s wicked claws are sheathed like on a cat but extend when Dean presses on the fingers. The fur is short on the hands and forearms then gets longer but equally dense the higher up on the arm his hand strokes. 

It’s funny, never in his life has it occurred to Dean to pelt when he’s cold. He burrows a hand deep into Sasha’s thick, soft fur by the shoulder and comes to a decision. He feels the sun-burnt heat in his skin when he pelts. He lets his fur grow out as long as he can possibly manage, which, compared to Sasha, isn’t very long. Then he lies staring at his hand and arm resting alongside Sasha’s. Aside from the thickness and length of hair of the winter-adapted creature spooning him, there are some significant differences. Dean’s hand reminds of the hands of monkeys - hairy on top and palm naked. But Sasha’s are hairy all over except for a paw-like hand print of rough dark skin. Dean slides his hand into the loose cup of Sasha’s hand and lies admiring their difference and likenesses comparing their patterns and coloration. He’s getting excited. Dad had told him many times as a kit not to pelt where he could be seen by outsiders. He was never forbidden to do so but dad had the faint smell of fear and anxiety when he gave this warning. On top of that dad and Bobby never pelted beyond demonstrating that they could when Dean asked them to. This - lying here covered in fur for the purpose of keeping warm, it makes Dean feel… free. This is him. Just like his claws, flare, and fangs are him, so is his fur. He wants this to be just as natural to him as dropping fangs. He wants the warm fluff between Sasha and him―Sasha’s fur―to be normal. He fucking hates Progs. If it weren’t for them classifying people like Dean as mere animals to be shot on sight, it could have been. As if being an animal is reason enough to kill. Progs don’t go around slaughtering cats and dogs, why do it to fellow ‘humanoids’? It’s all bullshit.

Now he lies admiring how the glossy fur catches the white moonlight.

Except, there’s no moonlight outside. The only light coming through the windows is the questionable light of pre-dawn, and city lights. He sucks in a breath and turns his head to see Sasha’s bright flare directed at Dean’s hand curled into his own. When he notes that Dean’s awake he makes a happy little _mrrt_ noise that might be the most unguarded noise Dean’s ever heard him make. Dean rubs his temple under Sasha's elongated jawbone. He's almost tempted to shift his cranium too but he already has a faint headache caused by his fever, shifting would catapult it into a horrendous migraine. He could never shift as much as Sasha has done now. He’s only done so once and it nearly killed him. He wishes he could, though. He turns his head back to focus on their hands and spreads his fingers inviting Sasha to entwine his humanized lynx-paw fingers with his. When Sasha spreads his fingers to take up on the invite his long, wicked claws are briefly unsheathed only to retract again when his fingers curl towards Dean’s palm.

Siberians are supposedly violent, dangerous animals. (Whoever says that knows jack shit.) Taking in Sasha’s now non-human face and general appearance Dean gets where people are coming from. But he feels a strong kinship to the foreign man and he hasn’t felt so safe since Cas died. He isn’t in love with the Siberian like he is with Michael, not crushing on him like he is on the other elusive Williams brothers, but this is the moment he’s sure he loves Sasha too, as a friend and partner. Sasha’s someone he can be completely himself with, with no mask to uphold. It’s liberating.


	3. Maybella's Honour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's standard fare for Luci to make stupid decisions concerning Omegas he likes so why should this time be any different? And a week ago he's certain he did the right thing but it required all his self-control to act in complete opposite to his nature. The important thing was to _be there_. Sometimes inaction is simply what's required to show someone you trust them to be in control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a chapter. It doesn't quite follow the theme of the other chapters if you don't consider that Dick no longer can hide himself. It might be a bit tricky to follow the plot of this chapter if you haven't read The Dick Roman story. The next chapter is almost done too. Then finally I can move on to write the date.

Present day…  
The phone call he's dreaded comes at 4:45 in the morning when rain is smattering against the window. He looks at the caller ID, then, instead of answering, shakes his companions awake. “I'm going to have to ask you two to leave," he tells them. " I have a very important phone call incoming and I don't want it to be overheard.”

The Alpha rolls out of bed and starts dressing right away but the Omega frowns. “That's really rude. It's in the middle of the night. Can't you just take it outside?” she says.

"Jenny, come on,” her mate urges.

"You must have me confused with my polite older brother. If you don't leave I will bodily throw you out,” Lucifer says impatiently. It is rude. He wouldn't do it if he wasn't anticipating getting his ass chewed out and to have to grovel.

Jenny looks like she's about to protest. And really, both she and her mate Jonathan deserve better. But Luci's not about to fold. He drops fangs, flares, and lets out a short roar.

Jenny eeps and rolls out of bed to quickly start dressing. As soon as she does Luci reverts back to normal. “I'm sorry about this. I truly am," he laments.

“Hey, man, it's okay,” Jonathan offers, buttoning his shirt.

“No. It’s not and we all know it. But if you swing by the office at 6 tonight I’ll make it up to you,” Luci promises. He ushers them out of the hotel room door. “You need cab money? No? Okay. Bye.” Jonathan actually gives him a quick affectionate rub before he leaves, cementing a bit of guilt at throwing them out. They only live two blocks away so it could have been worse.

Luci sits down on the bed and stares at his now silent phone. It’ll start ringing again any minute. Anxiety crawls under his skin. Now his little play is going to be shut down.

As expected, the phone rings again. This time he picks up. “Luci, speaking.”

“Do you mind explaining to me why you gave the order to buy all the competing tech companies dealing with the Hudson invention, son?” his father’s stern voice asks.

Luci scrapes on a stain on the sheet. “Not particularly, no?”

“Did you ask Mike before you gave the order?”

“No. Mikey makes bad decisions anyway,” Luci answers with a pouty frown.

“Mikey is responsible for the budget of the whole company, Luci. I’m darned sure he knows what he’s doing!”

Marlon is mad as hell and for once Luci’s glad he’s in another state. If he’d been face to face with him he’d be hard pressed not to bait his father into a physical fight. And for what?

For glasses being gently removed from the bridge of his nose and put into his pocket, a clawed hand combing his hair into place and a soothing purr chasing away his anxiety that he’d fail in a certain case, lifting his confidence to a level where it almost corresponded with his actual skill.

Not that it matters.

“You, uh. You abrogated the order?” Luci asks.

“You’re darn right I did! If we’re about to spend billions of dollars I need to know why. Is this about an Omega?”

Luci presses his lips into a tight line.

* * *

One week earlier…

The elevator doors shut, making the scent of Dick’s Heat tenfold in the confined space. It takes every ounce of concentration not to deep-purr like a stupid knothead. Dick’s anxiety helps to remind Luci why he isn’t supposed to suddenly give it his best shot to woo him right now. Mikey doesn’t get it. And yet, he’d been there that day a couple of years ago when a guy had said that if Raphael always had the same sense of smell as when an Omega was in Heat, the guy would have been seriously interested. Raff had been hurt by that. Hurt by the notion of being judged by his handicap once again. To Luci’s mind, it can only mean that it would hurt Dick to suddenly be treated differently - as if he hadn’t been a whole, valid person before he hit Luci over the head like a sledgehammer with his wonderful scent.

Luci’s standing behind Dick to the left. He’s doing what he can not to appear like he’s trying to take over or belittle. 

The man beside Dick flares and starts deep-purring with a cocky smirk, looking at Dick. Luci wants to sink his fangs into the guy’s jugular.

“I’m monogamously mated,” Dick informs the guy dismissively.

“No, you’re not. What? You think I’m noseblind or something?” the guy snarks with that condescending smirk and steps closer sniffing Dick’s shoulder. Dick’s scent spikes with annoyance and distress. “Don’t be shy, kit. I’ll rock your world,” the slimeball adds.

Dick levels him with a look of utter disgust. “I should think not. Now, would you be so kind as to take a step away?”

The guy doesn’t listen. Instead, he deep-purrs harder.

“Impressive,” Luci says in a bored voice and studies his nails on one hand. “I never thought I’d see anyone gutsy enough to sexually harass the 2IC of HR in front of a witness. Brave. Or maybe you’re just tired of your job?”

The guy stops purring to take note of Luci for the first time. Luci smiles, flares to identify himself, and wiggles his fingers in a little wave. “The 2IC of HR is scentless,” the guy says but now he sounds uncertain.

Dick’s lips curve upward in the corners, scent losing its distressed edge. “It shouldn’t matter, Mr. Roberts. Your behaviour is less than satisfactory considering that this is a workplace. But let’s not dwell on it. This is your floor.”

Dick knows the guy’s name because of course, he does. Luci bets he doesn’t even have to do memory exercises. It’s hard not to drop fangs and give Roberts a spiteful, shiteating grin when the guy pales and starts stinking of distress once he realises that he’s been hitting on none other than Dick Roman. In a fucking elevator. It’s bad taste. You don’t come on strong in a confined place where the O can’t get away without a fight. And that’s not even workplace related. Father would have their hides if any of them thought to do something like that.

The doors open and Roberts flees stammering apologies.

As soon as the doors close again Dick whirls around and glares. “I’m _quite_ capable of handling myself, Luci.”

“Never doubted that for a second. But you think I’m going to watch conduct like that happening in my office and not speak up? Pssh.” It wasn’t that long since Dick interviewed Luci for his own allegations of the same thing. It was terrifying. Supposedly, Luci had nothing to fear except father giving him the Disappointed™ look. Still, he’d been a wreck inside during the interview.

“So now I’m going to have to face that―” Dick halts to choose another word than whatever slur was about to come out, “that man, to do work that wouldn’t have been necessary if you hadn’t―”

This time Luci cuts him off. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll tell Raff about the incident and you won’t have to spend a second more thinking about it. And don’t pretend you wanted his come-ons. But hey! Maybe you _do_ enjoy having knotheads following you around purring all day. I can do that if that’s what you want?” Lucifer offers sarcastically. He’d love to do that. Tag along showing _exactly_ how he feels about the way Dick smells.

“You’re already doing the following around bit,” Dick snipes.

Luci smirks. “Anything to procrastinate.” It’s a lie and they both know it. Luci never shirks work. He’s in constant competition with Crowley. Someone at an office party once called Crowley a lucky man while watching him move in a slow dance with Dick. They couldn’t have been more wrong. Crowley isn’t lucky. It isn’t luck. Crowley is a fucking genius and a hustler and everything he owns he has because of hard work and sharp wit. That includes Dick Roman. Crowley did right by Dick from day one. To compete with Crowley Luci has to stay constantly on his toes. But Dick needs support right now and Crowley’s out of state.

* * *

Present day…

Luci’s silence lingers too long.

“So it’s an Omega,” Marlon states. “Please, could you tell me why you want us to spend billions of dollars on one O?”

Luci bites his lip before he answers. “Another Alpha disrespected the O in question. I want revenge.”

There’s a silence then a thump. Luci’s pretty sure his dad just head-desked. “I don’t even know how that equation works in your head and I don’t want to know. How about hiring a good assassin? That’s a hundred grand maximum? Or a thug. That’s only 500 bucks tops.”

“That’s illegal. I’m a lawyer.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Luci. Do you think I don’t know you went into law to know how you and your brothers could break the law and get away with it,” Marlon says impatiently. He sighs. “Sometimes, Luci… You infuriate me and drive me to my wit's end.” There’s another silence and Luci scratches at the stain on the sheet waiting for the rest. Marlon draws a deep breath. “Was it Sam? Did he disrespect your mate?”

Luci shakes his head despite knowing his father can’t see it. “No… By the way, did Mikey tell you? Dick Roman got his scent unlocked…” he says offhandedly as if these things aren’t intimately connected.

Marlon hisses in frustration. There are three thumps in a row, then, “Will you excuse me for a bit, son, I’ll be right back.” Luci listens intently as the phone clutters from being put down. A short silence follows then the unmistaken sound of a punching bag being hit in a series of quick, _hard_ punches. It puts Marlon in his home office or in the gym downstairs. Luci thinks it’s the home office due to the acoustics. The phone clatters again and Marlon comes back on the line. “No. Michael has failed to inform me of that. I’m guessing that is relevant to the idiotic order you gave?”

* * *

One week earlier…

Brock pushes the papers Dick asked for over to Luci despite Luci’s lack of interest in him. Luci’s been sitting beside Dick typing on his laptop making an occasional note on a notepad while Dick’s conducting interviews. He might have cancelled his meetings but he wasn’t planning to try to actually do Raff’s job. He’s here because of this urgent _need_ to support Dick whether Dick wants it or not. The distress in Dick’s scent when they stepped into his office this morning… Dick’s got so many feelings that you can’t fucking see on his face. Luci has this feeling like Dick’s had everything stripped away and is naked and vulnerable for the first time in his life. Luci pushes over the paper from Brock to Dick without looking at them. Right now, though, Dick isn’t vulnerable - he’s _furious_.

Understandably.

Luci is too but his jumbled scent masks everything except how horny Dick’s Heat scent is keeping him. Occasionally he jots down his assessment of the interviewee in the notebook, making sure only Dick can see what it says. He’s truly trying not to interfere or he’d make sure Brock’s head would interfere with flying chair’s arc. Repeatedly. Conservatives often enough regard Omegas in a subservient or lesser rank, but this is preposterous. The majority of Conservatives still recognise that Omegas should be treated with respect and that they can hold positions of power. Only the truly religious nutjobs take it to this level. Every question Dick’s asked has been answered, but Brock keeps his answers directed to Lucifer. If Luci had introduced himself as a Williams, it would be easier to understand. But he shook hands saying ‘Company lawyer. I’ll be sitting in.’ Nothing else. No name no flare. The guy was just a huge genderist asshole.

Dick’s phone rings. “Excuse me, gentlemen, I need to take this. I’ll be right back,” he informs them and leaves the room. Most likely he doesn’t need to take the call unless it’s from Raff or Crowley. But it’s still good that he leaves to calm down.

“Why are they letting Omegas work here without taking suppressants? It’s a disgrace, if you ask me. They shouldn’t be allowed to distract hardworking Alphas,” Brock says as soon as the door closes.

Luci gives him a disinterested look, inside his blood is boiling. “The employees of Williams Corp are expected to have self-discipline. No matter how much I want to bend an O over the table and knot him senseless, if I can’t keep my mind on my work then I’m simply too _weak_ to work here. We require that neither Alphas or Omegas let themselves be distracted. Just look at how exceptionally unaffected Mr. Roman is by his own Heat. As for suppressants, it’s up to each individual to make decisions about _their own_ body. We do not adjust the conditions for those strong of mind to suit the inferior.” He’s choosing his words pointedly to underline the contempt he has for those who try to govern Omegas’ body autonomy, but he keeps his voice dull and uninterested. Dick wouldn’t like it if he puffed up and went all overprotective. If he did in this instance he’d just play into the Conservative notion that Omegas are lesser and need an Alpha to speak for them. Fuck knows that Dick doesn’t need anyone to speak for him. He’s a force to be reckoned with. And he’s _dangerous_. He’s never admitted to anything upfront but Luci keeps a tally. A school burning down conveniently, Crowley’s sister dying and his mom’s attack that left her barren, that guy Porter going missing never to be found, companies going bankrupt. Anger or threaten Dick enough and he’ll send you to hell with a sly smile on his face. And he’s so fucking protective of his friends and loved ones. And Raff. _Nobody_ is as protective of Raff as Dick Roman. Sometimes Luci wonders how close he’s come to the sharp end of Dick’s ire and how screwed he’d been if Mikey hadn’t been on Dick’s good side in college, before Dick met Raff and decided Raff is special. Luci’s been intimidated by Dick since that day in the cafeteria when Dick refused Luci’s invite to come to sit with him so he could apologise. 

“It’s pathetic, people who can’t keep themselves in check,” Brock agrees. Then he leans forward pinning Luci with a conspiratorial look. “Psst, between you and me, what’s wrong with him?” he says lowering his voice and gesturing with a thumb behind him at the door Dick left through.

“Excuse me?" Luci asks startled.

“You _know_. An O smelling that good? Who somehow managed to get to such a good position in a company like this? If he's still not mated by his age there's got to be something wrong with him.”

Violence. Excruciatingly painful violence. That’s what flashes before Luci’s inner eye. If he could kill and get away with it he would have done so now. “First off, by his age? What’s that supposed to mean? He’s got at least 20 to 30 fertile years if that’s what you’re getting at. Secondly, he has a mate. His mate is just off travelling.”

Brock makes a surprised sound. “Really? His mate leaves him long enough for the bond to fade? What kind of monster is he? I’d never leave my mate for more than a week if I had one.” He turns his head to look at the door. “Even less with someone like him. You never know what those Alpha-Omegas get up to when you loosen the reins.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. No Maybella would ever go for someone like you.”

Brock turns back with a chuckle, seemingly not understanding that he’s being insulted. “Oh, you’re right. By the time I was done with him he wouldn’t be a Maybella anymore, he’d know his place. Guys like you and me know how to set Os straight, am I right?” He gives Luci a mischievous wink.

It makes Luci sick to his stomach that anyone like Brock would think Luci shares his oppressive opinions. For a moment his mind shows him Dick and Dean too subjugated to be classified as ‘Alpha-Omegas’, the fanatic Conservatives word for a strong, willful Omega. The image of a quiet Dick with eyes downturned and no fire left inside makes Luci want to cry. At the same time his anger supersedes his wish to respect Dick. He opens his mouth to give Brock a piece of his mind just as Dick enters the room again. His jaws click shut and he looks back at his laptop screen. There must be some way to obliterate Brock without making it appear as if Dick needs an Alpha to speak for him. Mikey’s Maybella should be just that. A Maybella.

When Brock finally leaves Dick locks the door after him then sinks down onto his chair covering his face behind his hands and breathes deeply.

Luci, in an effort to show himself open and vulnerable, puts on his reading glasses. He only ever uses them when he’s tired. Honestly, he always needs them when he’s looking at his screen or reads, and to not use them gives him headaches, but they show that he isn’t as perfect as he purports himself to be so only those closest to him get to see it. “Care to tell me why you didn’t tell that dickbag to burn in hell and get the fuck out of here?” he asks.

Dick removes his hands and lets his head fall back against the backrest to stare tiredly at the ceiling. “Believe me, dear heart, I’d like nothing more. Hell, I’d love to do a show-don’t-tell on him with some gasoline and a match, but we can’t. I vetted all the applicants before I called them to interview and Mr. Garrett is currently several tiers above everyone else when it comes to the new tech. He might be the most knowledgeable within the field currently alive. If we turn him down our competition will get their hands on him and whatever happens, we don’t want that.”

Luci looks thoughtfully at Dick for a beat. From what he gathers, the tech requires a special license to both produce and to learn. Brock is licensed just like the Williams Corp. And Dick’s right. This is a new field and a skilled person could be the edge needed to compete. Brock really doesn’t deserve to get a job after treating the O conducting the interview like he did. But the ones that own the market dictate who can work in it, so if they owned the whole market…

Luci shuts his laptop and leans his chin on Dick’s shoulder. “I’m starving. I’m taking you to lunch.”

Dick rights his head to side-eye Luci with a slight curve of his lips. “I brought lunch with me today.”

“Don’t give a shit. I’m pulling rank,” Luci says. When Dick turns his head to lift an eyebrow dryly at him he says, “Come on, I’ll rock your world,” and waggles his eyebrows with a shiteating grin. He frowns, thoughtfully scrunching up his nose. “Or, if we go to the Mexican place down the street, I’ll rock your bowels,” he adds.

Dick huffs in amusement and leans his forehead against Luci’s, lifting a hand to stroke his thumb along Luci’s cheekbone. Luci’s insides are going haywire. He wonders if Dick really doesn’t remember that shameful night all those years ago when they made out like Progs and _almost_ got it on. They were too drunk then. Dick especially was barely lucid. Back then Luci’s heart had fluttered just as wildly when their lips met as it’s fluttering now by mere proximity. Luci isn’t a kisser. It’s too intimate and reserved only for those he loves. But that time Luci had been the one to initiate it, sitting outside drinking, sharing a cig. He’d plucked the cig out of Dick’s hand and squished it before pulling Dick in for a kiss. Luci will still swear the earth stopped spinning at that moment. But that night out on the grass... Dick was too drunk, barely able to keep his eyes open. Still, when Luci noticed how slick Dick was he’d pulled Dick’s legs apart and he would have knotted him if Crowley hadn’t shown up and torn him off. When Luci in his own dumb, drunken stupor was about to show Crowley once and for all who was the top dog Dick had gone from nearly unconscious to murderous protector in a heartbeat. Luci still has the scars from Dick’s claws along the ribs under his right arm. Crowley swears Dick doesn’t remember that night at all. But every time Dick and Luci end up like this, close, with an intimate tension between them, he remembers how close he got to force himself on somebody too out of it to be able to make a decision between yes or no. He’ll never be rid the shame of that.

“Thank you, dear,” Dick says lowly and closes his eyes to rub his temple affectionately against Luci’s. There will never be a gesture big enough to make up for the mistakes Luci’s made, the wrongs he’s committed whereas Dick’s concerned. But he has to try. Now that he can smell all the emotions previously hidden to him, he _has_ to try…

* * *

Present day…

“It might be,” Luci admits. The one that controls the market decides who works in the field. It might have been a bit over the top to try to buy the other competitors, but still. “He just… Father, he has so many emotions simmering under the surface and too many of them are sad. I had no idea. I just― I have to do something,” he says while gesturing with one hand.

“I don’t fault you for caring for your friends, Luci, but there are limits.”

Friends. Sure. Let’s go with that.

Luci sulks. “I know. Hey, do I really have to go to the group date Gabe set up? I’ve already found Sam and Dean. It seems unnecessary and stupid to court someone else.”

Marlon, unexpectedly, laughs. “Yes, son. You’ll be there and you’ll be on your best behaviour. It’s not optional.” 

Luci falls back onto the bed. “But _why_?” he whines. “Gabe’s as smitten with Dean as the rest of us and he’ll love Sam. We don’t need anyone else. Plus―” his jaws click shut with an audible clack.

“Plus what, son?” 

Luci looks down on his belly and pokes his finger into his belly button. “Plus Dean was the one to unlock Dick’s scent. Dick’s got a pack scent bond to the Winchesters now.” 

“He’s running with the Winchesters?”

“He isn’t a Packrunner, father. So no. It just happened, according to him.”

Marlon takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before keeping quiet for too long before he speaks. “Tell me, son, and answer me with complete honesty now because this is important. Did your feelings toward Richard Roman change nature when you could smell him?”

“No.” It’s not a lie. It’s still the same feelings, only much, much stronger. But that’s not what his father asked. Besides, it doesn’t matter what he feels for Dick. Dick’s Crowley’s. He’s off limits and has been for a long time. Why bother father by telling him how the sharp, intelligent O makes him feel? That he’s always made Luci feel… Frankly, inadequate. A bumbling fool. Dick was out of his league before he was dibsed by Crowley and Dick’s shut him down every time he’s tried for more than platonic, so why does it even matter?

But sometimes Dick lets him have a taste of it. Like when he came in to negotiate his raise smelling of Dean. It wasn’t very hard for Luci to pretend that he pushed Dick up the wall and burrowed his nose into Dick’s neck solely to get a whiff of Dean. No, Dean’s scent was just a wonderful bonus that allowed him to play his role as a dumb knotheaded Alpha with no sense. Of course, he knew Dick was trying to manipulate him. He isn’t _that_ dumb. But he doubts Dick ever understood that he himself would have been enough to do that - scent or no scent. At least Luci knew to declare defeat a long, long time ago. Not like Mikey who obsessed over Dick for well over a decade without even being in love.

Marlon is quiet for a beat as if he’s waiting for Luci to say something more. When he doesn’t, Marlon speaks. “Very well, son. We’ll figure some way out for you to perk Richard up that doesn’t cost billions of dollars. And in the future, you must confer with your brothers before making dumb decisions like you did. I’ll be very cross with you if you don’t. Is that understood?”

“Yes, father.”

“Good. I trust you’re handling the work related issues with better grace?”

“Yes. I’ve already convinced them not to sue. It’s a strong pack with dabblings in local politics so I’m sticking around trying to convince them to ally with us.”

“Excellent. I’m going to bed now. Call if you need anything. Love you, son.”

“Love you too.”

After they’ve hung up Luci rests the phone on his chest and stares at the ceiling. He’s got the best sense of smell in the whole pack and still, for so many years Dick’s scentlessness had him thoroughly fooled thinking Dick was mostly unaffected by all his blunders. For the millionth time, he wonders how often he’s hurt Dick cluelessly. Because up close and personal his sensitive nose had detected a hint of perpetual sadness calling into question Dick’s frequent assurance that he wasn’t depressed despite his lack of scent. Stuff like that lingers. He remembers smelling it on dad when he came out of his scentlessness, and he remembers smelling it on Aiden during the last years of his lifetime.

It was probably good that his play to defend Dick’s honour got shut down. He just wishes he could make up to Dick for all the times he’s been his own idiotic self. It keeps sleep from finding him for the rest of the early morning.

* * *


	4. The Monster and the Prog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean makes plans with Sam and Dick when he gets an invite for a movie night at Charlie's. He asks if he can bring his little brother and a friend. The evening takes an unexpected turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys. This is the last part before the date and I was very nervous about it since it's a lot of dialogue. :) My wonderful Beta [YouCantKeepMeDown](http://archiveofourown.org/users/YouCantKeepMeDown) helped calm my nerves. If you're an Archangel fan I recommend you check her works out. Anyway, I'm going to spend the evening answering your comments on previous chapters. It makes me thrilled to see how insightful some of them are, and it makes me giggle to see you speculate who the father of Dick's kit could be. The answer to that will be revealed on the date. ;)

Charlie yanks Dean into the kitchen of her apartment and hisses out a loud whisper. “You brought one of the big bosses here! Are you _insane?!_ " She's reeking of anxiety and distress.

Before Dean has a chance to answer the source of her anxiety pops his head through the door. “Is there a problem here? Might I be of assistance?" Dick says with his trademark pleasantly amicable expression. Dean knows Dick was anxious as fuck on the way here. He and Sam sat in the backseat while Dean sat up front by the cab driver. Dean had started purring his all-is-well to calm Dick down and the crazy-ass driver had started beatboxing to the purr. That’s weird but fucking rad, okay? It had calmed Dick right down. Then Sam had leaned over to quickly rub his temple against Dick, only to get all flustered thinking he’d overstepped. But Dick had relieved that tension by responding in kind and suddenly the car was filled with three people purring in contentment. Dean doesn’t have the words to describe how happy it makes him that Sam and Dick get along. Even if their conversations tend to drift into total nerd territory.

“No, no!” Charlie exclaims and waggles her hands in front of her in a panicky stop motion. “No problem! Everything’s swell!” She flusters and laughs awkwardly.

“She’s freaking out because you’re one of the big bosses,” Dean tells Dick, ignoring Charlie’s betrayed gasp. She’d said it was okay if he brought a friend. She hadn’t said he wasn’t allowed to pick anyone he wanted.

“Ah. I see. Charlene, I’m here in a private capacity. I assure you I won’t penalise anything you might say unless you’re planning to to bring down the company. I don’t mind hearing people talk shit about their bosses and coworkers in private. In fact, I have it on good authority that the second in command in HR, is a dick.” Dick winks and Dean sniggers. Charlie laughs awkwardly again but doesn’t answer. Dick’s smile never falters but Dean picks up a note of sadness in his scent in the pause that follows. “But, if my presence in your home makes you too uncomfortable I’ll call a cab and leave with no grudges held. Not everyone can separate their work from their private life and I don’t go where I’m not welcome,” he adds.

_That_ jars Charlie out of her freakout. “No, no! Stay, please! It’s fine. Really. _Frack._ I’m sorry. It’s just that there’s a teeny tiny little chance that my hobby will be mentioned at some point and some might be of the opinion that it isn’t strictly legal and I don’t want to get fired for it?” Charlie babbles.

“Oh? I’ve already told you that unless you’re hurting the company you won’t see repercussions to what you do and say here in private. But I confess, you’ve awoken my curiosity now.” The pleasant smile and the intense, sharp gaze Dick directs at Charlie makes him look like a predator toying with a mouse. Dean marvels at how power is such an ingrained part of Dick’s personality that he can look dangerous even when he’s positively inclined towards someone and wearing a fucking argyle sweater. 

“Eaheheheh, um. I like to visit homepages of big companies and, uh, check how well protected their servers are?” Charlie says and shapes her mouth into a big, nervous grin, reeking of anxiety.

Dick, however, start smelling of excitement. “A hacker? That’s a thing you should be bringing up in your yearly work review.”

Charlie laughs nervously again.

“I’m not joking, Charlene. If you’re good at what you do that’s a thing that could move you up considerably on the company ladder,” Dick adds.

“Oh! Oh! Charlie, something just struck me. Could you, like, erase people’s paperwork from schools and companies they’ve worked at? Like, make it appear as if they’d never gone to those schools or had those jobs? But without leaving a trace of the hacking?” Dean exclaims excitedly.

Charlie looks between Dick and Dean hesitantly. “Yes? As long as they’re modern schools and companies that keep their files in digital. Then it’s a piece of cake.”

“Hey, Dicky. What was the name of that genderist douchewad who treated you like shit?” Dean’s trying not to bounce in place at the prospect of crushing the asshole that wronged his pack. Fuck whether Dick’s really pack or not. He is to _Dean_ , and if you hurt one pack member you hurt all of them. In this case, it’s even more true since they’re a pack consisting only of Omegas and Dick being an Omega was the heart of the issue.

“What’s this about?” Charlie asks.

“Dicky had to interview people for a position working with some new tech shit that very few know or some shit. There was this one Conservative dude that on paper is probably the best in the business considering how few are licensed to work with it. But he was a major A-hole and…” Dean recaps the situation briefly. Dick’s expression turns darkly hungry as he adds details of what went down after catching what Dean’s getting at. Dean finishes his explanation. “...but we might have to hire him anyway so our competition won’t get their hands on him. But I’m thinking, if there’s no proof to back his claims…” he lets the sentence linger and waggles his eyebrows with a shiteating grin.

Charlie smells as excited as the others now too. “Oh, yeah, I can definitely do that. Hold on.” 

40 minutes later they’re both hanging over Charlie’s shoulders watching her erase the last trace of the legality of Brock Garrett’s resumé. His papers will from hence forward look like a well done forgery. “You’re kind of completing me right now, Charlie,” Dick purrs. “How did you get so good at this?”

“I, I kinda have a problem with authority? No offense. So I made myself indispensable to get away with, uhm, being me. ...Sorry.”

“No offense taken. How much will this cost me?”

“Nothing. I did it for fun.”

“Hah! I suggested having a bit of fun with Brock in a dark alley with a baseball bat, but Dick rejected it out of hand,” Dean fake-mopes.

“Getting away with murder of a well-off person is hard if you’re not scentless. I don’t want you ending up in jail,” Dick tells Dean then turns back to Charlie. “Stop by my office tomorrow after lunch and we’ll see about finding you a… _fun_ job, hmm?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Dick. Please,” Dick says with an intense smile. Sam calls for Dick from the living room so Dick stands up and pats Charlie on the shoulder. “Good talk,” he says before he leaves.

Charlie turns to look at Dean with round eyes. “Is this real life?”

“Better believe it,” Dean answers with a grin.

* * *

A while later the initial awkwardness is forgotten. They're all cooped up on the big, plush couch - Dick, Sam, Charlie, Gilda, Dean, Dorothy, and Lisa. The three women are friends of Charlie that don't work for the Williams Corp. (Incidentally, they're all ex lovers of hers too. She’s got good taste.) Charlie is the only Alpha. Dean's never experienced something like this. He's used to be the only Omega in a group. He's enjoying himself. He's glad he accepted the movie night invite. He’d asked if he could bring Sam and a friend since he’d already made plans with the two of them. Not having to choose is awesome. The movie part is pretty much forgotten in favour of beer, cuddling and gossip. Lisa smells so good Dean doesn't care that she's an Omega. Except it feels like it would be bad form to flirt right now. The TV's on some random channel but nobody's watching. That is, until Gilda notices what program is currently showing.

“Ooh! I love those guys!" She exclaims and points to the screen.

“Me too,” Sam chimes in. “Together they make the perfect Alpha.”

Dorothy sniggers. “I don’t know about that. But they’re funny with their ‘bro, bro’ about everything.”

“They seem really sweet and nice and normal, but in one episode one of them suddenly went full monster all of a sudden,” Charlie remarks with a shudder.

"Full _monst_ ―! You're a fucking _Prog_?" Dean bristles and leans forward to be able to stare in outrage at Charlie over Gilda. “You're one of those assholes that think we are nothing but animals?!”

“You're a _Primal_?" Charlie exclaims in equal outrage. "You're one of those violent psychos that can attack people without warning and who go RAArooGrr _grrGrorw_ Rawr instead of talking like normal humans?!”

That makes Sam practically keel over trying to withhold laughter, Dick to hide a smile behind his hand, and Dean nearly turning purple from outrage. He doesn't flare, drop fangs and growls his anger because it's _Charlie_ , and apparently, she's a fucking Prog and would probably piss herself. He doesn't want that, but he feels betrayed. His scent and expression says it all. Gilda, caught between them, lowers her head to the side and licks her lips in submission. Dean has no clue how the other girls are taking the sudden hostility since he's fully focused on Charlie.

“If I may cut in as a mediator to forestall the wreckage of a beautiful friendship?” Dick offers smoothly with a smile and reaches to touch Dean's thigh lightly. Dean's gaze jumps to Dick's briefly with a sharp nod. “Charlie, have you ever considered why Primals react like either Sam or Dean when they watch Tarzan?” Charlie responds with an angry shake of her head. “It's because that growling is in reality a very nuanced language. One might say that what you just did was saying random words that don't make a coherent sentence, quite like in the infamous movie. To Sam your ignorance is hilarious and to Dean, it’s perceived as mockery and dehumanization.”

"Nuanced language," Charlie states with such scepticism it becomes a question.

“Yes, dear. I can demonstrate if you'd like? The sounds rarely allow for a direct translation word by word, but I'll make a couple of similar sounds and let the Primals and Conservatives in the room tell you what I said. Don't be afraid.”

"Okay?”

There's a reluctant curiosity awakening in both Charlie and Dean. The others perk up to, to focus on Dick.

“G _r_ r _r_ ,” Dick sounds.

Sam, Dean, and Gilda answer at the same time.

“Playful!"  
“Come play with me."   
“Let's play!"

"Very good. Now. _Gr_ rr."

“Leave me alone."  
“Keep your distance."  
“I'm in a bad mood."   
“I need coffee,” Lisa adds.

"I need coffee?!” Dean exclaims in delighted amusement, temporarily jarred out of his betrayed anger somewhat.

Dick chuckles. "Well. She's not wrong." 

Sam, Dean, Gilda, Dick, and even Lisa herself laugh. Charlie and Dorothy smile in bemusement the way you do when your friends laugh at a joke you don't get.

Sam, trying to be serious, turns to Charlie. “So get this. It basically means that you are in a bad mood and want to be left alone. But it's more than that. It's a sound reserved for family, friends, and colleagues. People you have an ongoing friendly relationship with. It means leave me alone but feel free to stick around. And it also tells you that whatever soured their scent it wasn't you. In Lisa's case, it probably was the alarm clock in the morning.”

“You get all that from one sound?” Dorothy asks.

“Yes. Every sound made holds different meaning with the slightest differences in tonation. It’s not as descriptive of objects as English or other spoken languages. But it is better at conveying how we wish to relate to each other, boundaries, and long distance communication when a phone isn’t an option,” Dick explains. “It’s true that violence is part of the Primal culture. But it’s not like many Progs believe, a matter of attacking people out of the blue. When that happens it’s not related to a designation, but rather driven by sadism or greed. There are robberies and assaults happening all over, in Progressive communities as well. What I think you’re referring to are the brief and ofttimes loud scuffles you see sometimes. Or when a Primal lashes out to dart back and resume a more passive demeanour directly afterwards. These quick attacks are easily perceived as out of the blue by Progs who simply miss the thing the Primal tried to communicate before the attack. The Prog’s behaviour then, has been seen by the Primal as trying to call a bluff or willfully ignore a warning.” Dick’s calm tone and amicable way has everyone relaxing and listening with interest. “Before such attack, the Primal has tried to tell the target what’s about to happen. In this way, Primals are as direct in their communication as Progs are.”

“Then why can’t they use words like _normal_ people?” Charlie asks in frustration.

That pisses Dean right off again. “I _am_ normal people, you dickwad!” His shout puts the sting of fear in the air and he’s concentrating very hard to hold back his normal reactions when being angry. He knows he’s failing a little bit. He can feel the heat in his eyes. He’s doing his best not to flare but chances are he has small glowing rings around his pupils. He’s clenching his fists on top of his thighs.

“Oh dear. Dear me. Hold on, Charlie, let me have a brief conversation with Dean. Don’t be afraid if it sounds or looks scary. It’s perfectly amicable, I assure you,” Dick warns before he flares softly and reaches out for one of Dean’s fists pulling it towards himself while making a soothing, submissive rumble. He bends forward and rubs his temple against Dean’s clenched fist. A note of uncertainty enters his scent while he does it. It’s fucking jarring. It’s jarring because not only is what he’s doing a Primal behaviour, but specifically _pack_ behaviour. And the uncertainty in his scent can only come from the fact that it’s a move that requires scent. Dick told him he’s struggling to adjust to having a scent so the protective side in Dean kicks in. Honestly? If Sam had been the one to do this Dean might have ignored the plea. But it’s important to Dean to support Dick through his problem even if he can’t quite grasp that it _is_ a problem, so he opens his hand to let Dick rub his temporal glands against the palm then pulls his hand back to rub Dick’s scent over his face and neck. Basically, what Dick’s saying is ‘I stand with you either way, but you’re making the pack unhappy acting like you are and I want you to stop.’ It can’t be translated to words because context, the intensity of the flare, the use of scent, all of these things can change the exact meaning. The rubbing against a hand is specific for Packrunners - somebody of lower rank giving the other the option of rejecting the scent marking and with it, the plea. Somebody hushedly whispers about red eyes on the other side of Dean but neither Dick nor Dean acknowledges it.

Dean takes a deep breath and refocuses on Charlie. “Look, Charlie, I really fucking like you, okay? But I’m fucking tired of being treated like a second class citizen by your kind. You know how often Progs make petitions about forbidding flaring, teething, purring and growling in public? Like Dick said, that’s our fucking language. How would _you_ feel if we wanted to forbid English? Is it really my fault when you can’t tell the difference between a flirty teething and a full fang drop? If it’s that fucking scary just find out what it fucking _means_. I’m tired of being called a monster, animal, or sniffler. We’re _all_ fucking animals, okay? I’m born with all these abilities I’m being asked not to use because some folks think it’s scary or distasteful. If I’m freezing my ass off I can’t pelt because there are people out there, mainly Progs, who take that as proof that I somehow can’t control myself, that I don’t think or feel as much as other people. Hell, to some it means ‘shoot on sight’, and while they’re at it they might skin me and sell my skin as a ready-made winter coat.” Okay, that might be him jumping to conclusions after spending time with Sasha. But still. “I’m willing to bet my right arm that there are Conservatives out there who share my ability and the fear of what people would do if they knew. I’m a Primal and I’m a Packrunner and I’m fucking _proud_ of that, okay?” He looks around at the other women in the big couch. “Anyone of y’all gonna have a problem with that?” Maybe it’s the tone of his voice or the narrowing of his eyes but everyone shake their heads in denial. 

He looks back at Charlie while pointing at the TV. “The episode where you say Chad goes full monster is the one where Brad gets punched, isn’t it? Let me tell you that if we were out together and someone clocked you I’d drop fangs and roar too before charging your assailant. That’s not being a monster, that’s being a good fucking friend! You know, I trust my instincts and let them guide me _a lot_ because they too are part of who I am. But that doesn’t mean I’m in anyway mindless and uncontrolled. Fuck yeah, I can be dangerous. Hurt my pack, my family, or my friends and I can turn every inch as dangerous as y'all accuse us of being. But so can you. What you did for me and Dick an hour ago proves that. And I've seen Progs fight too. When I got to New York I witnessed a Prog beat the living shit out of a skinny-ass Primal despite the Primal having done nothing to provoke it. Then who's the monster? No, no, no, don't fucking cry! I'm using my fucking words just like you wanted!”

The smell of saline stops Dean from going on. Instead, he starts comforting her instinctually. Hell, he can smell everyone in the room relaxing from what he's doing. Everyone _except_ Charlie. She's pressing a hand over her mouth, blinking repeatedly in an effort not to cry, turning her face away. Dick looks between her and Dean. “Ah. I see," he says as if something is suddenly making sense. “Charlene, dear, tell me, can you hear the sound Dean's currently making?” he asks softly. Dick's a fucking magician. Just like he got Dean to relax the first time they met he's currently showing off how good he is at handling people.

“He's making a sound?"

“Mh. He's making a sound of comfort since your tears are distressing him. How's your sense of smell?”

"Good? I smelled that I made you sad in the kitchen.”

Dick doesn't like to hear that at all. No Siree. Not with the hint of anxiety it causes in his scent. He doesn't show it outwardly. “Very well. Dean," he turns his head to look at Dean. “Progressives are the most like Packrunners out of all other designations―”

"Bullshit. _How?_ ” 

"You, growing up in a small town dominated by Conservatives and Primals wouldn't have been exposed to the consequences of that the way we are in the city since Progs still mix with other designations there. But here Progs often keep to their own kind, forming closed communities and collectives that work similar to packs. Polyamory is common but cross-designation couplings less so. It's led to Progs branching off into a new subspecies that's traded some qualities for others. These new Progs are less likely to die in childbirth, don't go scentless from grief as well as being immune to ailments that are scent bond related. Many Progs, especially in big cities or Prog dominated towns are born nose or ear blind. That means they can't necessarily catch all the details in Primal language. Like Charlie over here who's partially ear blind and can't hear the most low frequency sounds like the one you're doing now. Aside from that, Progs that do have all their primal senses intact convert the most easily since they’re raised with communal thinking.”

“No way. But why are they always so fucking _rude_?” Dean asks, anger starting to shift to desperation and curiosity.

“We’re rude? Your kind are the rude ones,” Dorothy states. “They’re always trying to buy sex from you. And if you _do_ hook up with one they make it so serious. Act like you’re already mated or something. It’s like they’re trying to trap you in a relationship when all you want is a roll in the hay.”

“What?” Dean’s eyes might be bugging a bit as he turns to look at Dorothy.

Sam too snaps out of his polite silence. “How do you mean? Have they siphoned you without permission or something like that?”

“No. But you follow a Primal or even a Conservative home and they go all domestic, cooking for you, bundling you up in their clothes, and dote on you. Like, _Hello_ , I’m here to have my brains fucked out not to have your kitling.”

“Is that how you see it?” Gilda asks with an amused smile. “I promise you, unless the Alpha sneaks in mateship in the conversation or does what Sam says and siphons you, they’re absolutely a 100 percent only out to knot you.”

“Then why are they doing that?”

“Bonds, or if everything goes to hell, _pregnancies_ , can happen even when you’re really fucking careful. Growing up Primal you are raised to show the Omega you can and will provide for them if everything goes to shit,” Dean explains and throws a surreptitious look at Sam as he mentions unplanned bonds while Lisa adds “Conservatives too.” Dean goes on. “Me and Sammy were taught to know how to act like both genders since nobody took for granted we’d present as Alphas just because we have dicks.” 

“It’s also, in a way, a form of foreplay, I’d say,” Dick chips in. “The whole courting ritual is quite a turn on for some. But mostly the Alpha does it to show he respects the Omega, as well to prove he’s worthy of them. Declaring that he takes nothing for granted, you might say.”

“Yeah. And Progs expect you to just bend over without making any effort at all. Fuck them. I’m a fucking Main. I deserve to be treated like one. Hell, I don’t require much. If I like you I’ll let you flirt with me and maybe knot me even if all you can afford to offer is a twinkie or an apple.”

“So you expect an Alpha to buy you a twinkie for his only money just to flirt with you?” Charlie asks skeptically. She’s managed to collect herself now that the discussion has turned more general.

Dean, Dick, Sam, Gilda, and Lisa shake their head simultaneously. “ _No,_ ” they all say in a choir only to giggle at the ridiculousness of that right after. The tense feeling in the room is quickly dissolving.

“So get this,” Sam starts, gesturing with his hands while he explains. “If I was an Alpha, and I only had money enough to buy a twinkie, I can’t afford to give it away, right? What counts as something you can afford is the surplus you don’t need to sustain yourself and anyone else you have depending on you. So I could offer you something else. Preferably something you need. It doesn’t have to be food, but food is something any person needs. Food is easy, right? But maybe you don’t have any food. So you give something else. Maybe see my hands are freezing and you have two pair of mittens but you only use one pair. Then you give me the pair you don’t use.”

“Or offer a seat in a crowded bus,” Gilda adds with a sly smile to Charlie that makes Charlie’s eyebrows climb upward in surprise before she chuckles. Dean guesses that’s how they met. Charlie had followed procedure without even knowing.

“Or if you’re a crafter you can give something you’ve made. One of your pots if you’re a potter for an example,” Lisa adds.

“Or hacking someone’s records to delete them if you’re a hacker,” Dick says equally slyly and gives Charlie a wink.

Charlie giggles.

The tense muscles between Dean’s shoulder blades relaxes at the sound. The scent of distress and anger are all but gone. “Not only that, it goes two ways, you know?” he tells her. “If I decide you can knot me I’ll take care of you too. I mighta taken your mittens but I ain’t gonna let you starve if you gave them just because it was all you had.” He lets out a rueful chuckle and adds, “Unless I’m in Heat cuz then food doesn’t exist in my brain. I’m sorta reliant on my Alpha or anyone else to remind me I have to eat then.”

“Amen,” Gilda agrees empathically.

Dorothy suddenly chuckles. “I remember one time when I was sitting in the park reading. I’d brought food to have a picnic later. Then this deep-purring, cute guy walked up to me and gave me a pear. Didn’t say a word. Just looked at me expectantly. I thought he wanted to do a trade so I pulled up a banana from my backpack. He went sort of pale and walked away, leaving the pear but didn’t take the banana, but then he came back with chocolate, so I naturally gave him a bar of another type of chocolate.” By now they’re all chuckling. Dick especially, finds it insanely funny. “He made this frustrated noise and went away again,” Dorothy goes on. “Then, after a while, he came back with a cheese and sausage platter. I figured he wanted to stick around and have a picnic with me so I took out my grilled chicken. The guy goes ‘Fuck sake!’ and walks away completely dejected. I never saw him again. I even went looking since he left all the food there with me.”

Dick’s practically dying from laughter. “Oh dear. Dear me. You don’t mind if i tell my ex this story, do you? He went to college to better understand Primals. He’ll have a good laugh about this.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Man, that guy must really have liked you,” Dean says with a big grin. “I’d given up the moment you pulled up a banana. I mean those are expensive in these parts of the country. You basically kept telling him his offering wasn’t good enough.”

“ _I didn’t know! I’d just presented and never given any thought about your weird rituals!_ ”

“It’s even funnier if you understand Progs. They’re straightforward and trade and split resources equally,” Dick says chuckling. “To them, if you give them food like this guy did, they feel obligated to match the offer or they’ll turn it down completely.” He directs himself to Charlie then, “It’s when you’ve flirted with Primals you most often experience that they turn hostile for no reason, correct?”

“Yeah. They drop fangs in the middle of conversations when I think we’re hitting it off,” she confirms and reaches for her beer.

“Yo, C,” Dean says smiling now. “When you say drop fangs do you mean like this?” He teeths his canines to sharp points to demonstrate.

Charlie nods empathically. “Mhm. Yeah, like that,” she confirms again and takes a swig of her beer. 

“Yeah, no. That’s teething, not dropping fangs. I do that when I’m flirty, or annoyed, to put a proverbial bite into my words. I do that when a Prog is trying to pick me up too to scare him off when he’s insulted me. You want to see what a real fang drop looks like?”

Both Charlie and Dorothy nods, curious now. Dick smells insanely content when he takes his own drink and leans back. Dean’s heart makes an elated skip when he sees that Sam nuzzles the top of Dick’s head then rests his chin on top of it, Dick leaning into him a bit. It’s just something special about seeing his growing pack show affection for each other. Dick might not actually be part of the pack yet, but it _feels_ like he is. 

“Alright. I’ll show you a full teething first. We do that and we are definitely hostile and threatening, right?” Dean says and reshapes all his teeth to points. “Like this. I do this and you better watch your words. It’s like, a non-violent threat, I guess? When we’re arguing politely and I’m close to losing my patience. I’m probably not even flaring. Most likely I’m smiling at you but a mean kinda smile. See how the teeth has the same mass? That’s teething.” He lets all teeth except the canines go back to normal. “So this is teething. Now, this is a half-drop.” His canines elongate and fill out slightly. “Like this, I still might be flirting but I could also be gearing up for a fight I believe might get physical. And I get that you think we consider fighting some kind of first choice. It’s not. That’s why we posture and threaten first and foremost. Most people back off when I drop fangs no matter their designation because I drop fangs fast and they’re big. It hurts, right? Dropping fangs, I mean. Makes your skull ache; more, the faster you drop. So by doing it fast, I tell my adversary that i have a high pain threshold and that I’m badass. Look.” He drops full fangs. 

Lisa gasps. “Oh my God. you really _are_ fast! I thought I was fast but this is the fastest I can do it without wanting to go cry in a corner from the pain.” She drops fangs a lot slower than Dean, but still respectably fast.

“Nice.” Dean takes a swig of his beer and directs himself at the two Progs on the couch. “See the difference? When we teeth we only reshape our teeth, but when we drop fangs we add to them to make them grow. Also, you can’t see that we’ve teethed when we have our mouths closed, but with full fangs they push a little on the bottom lip. Like this,” he says and closes his mouth.

It sets off an excited discussion with back and forths of ‘What does this mean?’ and ‘Why do you…?’ ‘What’s pelting?’ Dorothy can’t teeth. Charlie can after a couple attempts but it hurts her like it hurts Primals to drop full fangs. Both can flare even though they never do. Charlie’s flare is a gorgeous deep golden hue and Dean laments that she’s only into girls.

“Dean. We’ve mostly talked about Progressives’ view of Primals, but did you know that when a Prog offers to eat separately and meet up for possible sex afterwards, it’s a sign of respect? He’s showing you that he isn’t a burden to your resources and that he doesn't take anything for granted,” Dick cuts in after a while.

Sam and Dean both look puzzled.

“Exactly. No strings attached either way. Both of us getting exactly what we were after," Charlie agrees. "Don't get me wrong. If I end up in bed with someone in my home, of course, I'm going to offer her something to drink no matter what we agreed on. And a snack afterwards. And if she's in Heat all bets are off and I’ll see to her needs. But I'm not going to act as if she needs to coddled just because she’s an Omega. That’s demeaning.”

“Wouldn’t you offer an Alpha food and drink if you took him back to your place?” Dorothy asks.

“Hah. Yeah, no. Ain’t never ever taking a hookup to our place,” Dean answers. This makes the others look surprised.

“Dean and Sam are different from regular Primals in that department,” Dick explains. “Packrunners never invite strangers or even friends in unless all of them agree or there’s a special need like a doctor, or a plumber for example.”

“That’s right. Our home is the pack’s safe space. If we invite you home it’s a sign of trust and possibly a hint that we want to make you part of the pack. Back home our pack was divided because our uncle was in a wheelchair and couldn’t live in the same house as us, and we did let a woman come to give him massages and help him do exercises frequently. But we all agreed on it beforehand. In really big packs everyone might not be consulted but then we’re talking packs of fifty to several hundreds and then only the core members are asked.”

“Technically, a Main or Patriarch can overrule those decisions,” Sam adds. “But if they do it’s usually to veto an invite, not the other way around.”

“If you do find yourself invited to a pack’s home, they are very hospitable and caring hosts even if you’re only there to provide a service,” Dick chips in again. Dean wonders if that’s something he learned in college or if he’s ever been invited to a pack before.

“Yeah. But as long as I can avoid it, only Sammy and Dick are allowed to cross the threshold of our home.”

Dick sucks in a startled breath and gets the weirdest mix of sadness and joy in his scent.

Dean meets his gaze with a small smile. “Hey. I ain’t gonna force you to run with us, Dicky, but my casa is still su casa, if you get what I’m saying?” Great. Now he’s starting to sound like Sasha. 

Sam corroborates his statement by adding another affectionate marking on Dick. 

The sadness in Dick’s scent lessens and the joy strengthens. “Thank you, dear.”

* * *

Later on, the TV has been shut off in favour of background music and the group has divided in two separate groups for more individual conversations. When Charlie gets up and goes to the kitchen to get more beers Dean follows. “Hey, C?”

Charlie looks up from where she’s bent into the fridge.

“I’m sorry I reacted like I did to you calling Chad a monster. I didn’t want to scare you or anything. I felt betrayed and cheated that you belong to the same group of people that has been the worst adversaries in my life. I fucking like you, man. When I thought I was gonna get sacked I fretted the most because it could mean I’d lose you in my life. I want you as a friend,” Dean says with a slight smile and leans his hip against the kitchen counter.

“I’m sorry I reacted like I did too. I like you too. And I never really considered that you thought of monster and animal like slurs. I’m not gonna call Primals that anymore. But don’t you have slurs for us too?”

Dean huffs in amusement. “Sure we do. _Progs_ ,” he jokes. It’s not a joke. “Are we good?”

“Yeah. We’re good,” Charlie answers with a smile. Her scent is content and happy.

He opens his arms to invite her for a hug. She takes the invite and hugs him back.

“Can you really pelt?” she asks and looks up at him curiously.

“Sure, I can. Wanna see? I didn’t do it when Dorothy asked cuz Sam was freaking out about it.”

“Yeah, I smelled that. I never realised you guys feared us too. I’d love to see you pelt. I can’t really imagine what it looks like.”

Dean lets his fur grow. He doesn’t push it out to its maximum like he did with Sash, though. There’s no need. It feels fucking good to do it. To show who he really is. “You can touch if you want,” he offers.

“Wow. You’re… you’re really pretty. I’d imagined a scruffy black or gray fur, not, not like a kitten…” Charlie reaches out to pet him, causing him to purr in contentment. She chuckles. “Really like a kitten, apparently.” Her amused smile goes tender. “So soft…”

“Yeah. And watch this. I can scale walls with these.” He shows her his claws, letting her touch and explore while trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. Dean admits to himself that not all Progs are assholes. It’s going to take a while to rid himself of the notion completely but he opens his mind to the idea that, yeah, there are Progs he might want to have in his life. They stick around in the kitchen for a while and Charlie gives him tips of what to say if he ever wants to seduce a Prog. Naturally, the very next day Dean’s gonna try it out. And naturally, he’ll be picking the hardest target he can find that just happens to actually be something of an actual asshole. (It’ll turn out that Bartholomew makes a pretty good one night stand and that once in bed he isn’t an asshole at all. But Dean doesn’t know that yet.)

* * *

Later still, Dean finds Dick out on the balcony tapping an unlit cig against his lips while looking out over the darkness of the gated community. He's lit only by the light coming from Charlie's windows behind him.

“I didn't know you smoke," Dean says by way of greeting.

Dick turns around and leans his back against the railing. “Rarely. I'm trying not to. You want to share one and give me an excuse to light up?”

"Nah. Hey, I wanna say thanks for stepping in tonight.”

Dick takes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket to put the unlit cig back. “It's no big deal. It's part of what I do on a weekly basis at work. You wouldn't believe how many times employees get into petty feuds.”

"Yeah, well, it's a big deal to me. I don't think me an’ Charlie woulda still been friends after tonight if you hadn't butted in and led us.”

Dick smiles coyly at his feet. He smells content. Sam’s been marking him all evening, displaying the same sort of needy behaviour as Dean. Maybe that’s what it’s like when you join a stranger to a pack? Dean’s not sure if it’s only the situation or an instinctual drive to infuse their own scent with Dick’s until his scent is as familiar to them as their own. But Sasha’s advice sticks with Dean. Treat Dick like Sam. _Give him space and time but be open about what I want,_ he thinks in a reminder to himself. Dick looks up from under his lashes. “May I siphon you?”

“You know that’ll reinforce the bond, right?”

“Is that a no?”

Dean huffs in amusement. “Hell no! Of course, you can siphon me. I’m warning you cuz I might get even more needy than I already am.” He walks up to Dick and winds his arms around him offering up his neck. “I ain’t gonna lie, Dicky. I want you to run with us. I feel fucking possessive about you and I want to care for you and steer you―”

“Steer me?” Dick asks and rubs his nose against Dean’s neck gland to get secretion flowing, grabbing him by the hips to keep him in place.

“Yeah. You know, make sure you make decisions that are good for all of us while making you happy.” Dean purrs when Dick licks up a stripe along his neck.

Dick stops what he’s doing. “Tell me, Dean, was it you who told Sam to get rid of his mating bond?”

“Oh, hell no! That’d be insane. I want my pack to be happy. No, I came home and he informed me he’d accidentally got mated but managed to reverse the bond before it settled. But I was still freaking out internally, right? A bond that takes after spending only one night together? That’s some kick-ass chemistry. I was afraid Sam wanted to leave me for this guy. I’d let him go but it’d rip my fucking heart out. But Sam said he didn’t want to leave me so I called dad to get tips on how to snipe his Alpha from the pack he’s currently running with should it come to that.”

“Snipe?”

Dean huffs. “Steal him away. I’ll do anything in my power to keep my pack happy. No bars held.”

“Hmm.” Dick mulls this over for a beat. “And if you didn’t approve of the Alpha after Sam’s bond had set, what would you do?”

“Seethe in silence?” Dean chuckles. “I dunno, man. Try to find some common ground and hope the dude meets me in the middle? It ain’t up to me to decide who Sam mates. If he’s in love he is. No take-backs. That’s why we try to be picky _before_ either of us get mated, right? Find someone everyone in the pack can get along with. But if that ain’t happening I’ll have to make the best of the situation.”

Dick’s gaze bores into him as if he’s trying to read his mind, his scent a mix of excitement and sadness. Then he suddenly breaks the intense stare to start siphoning.

Dean holds Dick closer and closes his eyes. “Hey, Dicky? Is it okay if I siphon you back?”

“Please do.”

Dick’s glands have already started to secrete. Dean licks a stripe and starts siphoning. The drowsy feeling of the siphon high takes almost instantly. He smells how their scents merge even more than before and how what they’re doing is turning them on as their bodies get ready for bonding sex they have no intention of having right now. His eyes get warm under his eyelids, flaring without conscious thought.

“Why is sex better when you’re not scentless?” Dick asks sluggishly. “It’s been bugging me.”

“That’s a given. I can smell you getting turned on. That turns me on which turns you on more, and so it goes.”

“Huh… Why, that _does_ make sense,” Dick muses driftingly.

Dean opens his eyes to see Dick’s red eyes look at him from under heavy eyelids, a dopey smile on his lips. Dean blames Michael for what he does next. Fuck, he couldn’t tell where the impulse came from, but he tilts his head to put his lips against Dick’s in a soft kiss. Maybe it’s all this talk about Progs today? Instantly, he’s expecting backlash for the intimate gesture. Instead, Dick opens his mouth to make it a real kiss. As if Dean hadn’t been turned on enough already.

“Holy frack, guys! I might only be into women but I’m only an Alpha! We can smell you in there and if you don’t cool it this is going to turn into a whole other type of party really fracking fast,” Charlie hollers at them from the balcony door.

Dean chuckles against Dick’s lips but shares a few more kisses with Dick before he steps away, takes Dick by the hand and leads him inside with a warm feeling inside his chest.

Dean doesn’t quite know how to feel about Progs at this moment. Charlie’s awesome and Dorothy is pretty cool too. Progs in general, though? One thing’s for certain - they’re definitely onto something with the whole kissing business...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


End file.
